Calamity
by stilessttilinski
Summary: And they shouldn't even try, really. It'll all go down in flames. - - NextGen. Characters. ; Amy, Ellie, Mystii, Aimy, Ria ;
1. introduction

**Calamity  
**_(_they shouldn't even try_)_

* * *

This is a Harry Potter NextGen collection, full of multiple pairings, and it's a competition, really, to see who can finish all the pairings first. _Everything is on hiatus for now except for this._

I will be competing with Amy (**Amy is rockin**), Aimy (**Aiiimy**), Ellie (**s i l v e r a u r o r a**), Mysti (**Mystii**), Ria (**Acacia Thorn**), and Ela (**HollywoodNights**). Every one-shot must be 600-3000 words, and we're only allowed to use up to five FreeVerse.

The pairings are all het, and will also include three female OCs (you can't have Weasleys _all the time_, you know.)

My three OCs are Rina Nott _(daughter of Daphne Greengrass & Theodore Nott), _Emma Smith _(daughter of Lavender Brown and Zacharias Smith)_, Alysha Zabini _(daughter of Blaise Zabini and Parvati Patil)._

My chapters will be completely unrelated, so don't expect a story of some sort. I'll be taking requests, so ask away! You can just give me a pairing, or a pairing & prompt, either one's fine.

Here's a disclaimer for all the chapters: I am not J.K. Rowling, nor do I own Harry Potter & it's characters. All I own is the plot, and the three female OCs. I also do not own the lyrics.

& go read and review Amy's, Ellie's, Aimy's, Ria's, Mysti's & Ela's, alright? Really, theirs are _ah-ma-zing_. Trust me, I know amazing when I see it.


	2. too real: RoxanneLorcan

**pairing: **LorcanRoxanne  
**words: **642

**too real  
**you are an expert at sorry,  
and keeping things blurry  
_/dear john, taylor swift/  
_;;

* * *

He's the boy that dreams too much, who gets lost in the clouds and goes off into his own little world a bit too muchto seem normal_._

And she's too real for him.

* * *

"Scamander!" She calls his name with a sort of commanding authority, still sounding so teasing, so _her_. He is far too lost in his world of imaginary beings and doesn't respond, getting that dazed look on his face and she rolls her eyes.

"_Lorcan,_ if you don't get your head out of those god damn clouds, I'll hex you!"

He barely blinks an eye.

She kicks him from under the table, her foot colliding with his shin _just right_, and he starts, pupils unfocused, slightly dilated. He mumbles a "What?" and faces her, looking so _dead_, like this world is nothing compared to whatever he was dreaming about.

"What were you dreaming about?" She rests her head on her hand, propped up and ears open.

His face lights up as he speaks of his own reality, and then she is lost.

* * *

Some may say he's a bit off his rocker, belongs in the loony bin with his mother, but frankly, she doesn't give a damn what _they_ think. He is her Lorcan and she is his Roxanne, and they're so entirely different it's almost a paradox, really. (But they're _friends_ [sort of], so they could care less.)

She spends much of her time finding his edges, his corners, a sense of _stability _within him but he's distorted around the edges. He's always half in this world and half in some oddball one he's created, and _Merlin_, she can never tell.

She wants to find the realism in him, get past the _sur_realism because she knows it's in him _somewhere_, and she can find it because she fixes people, and that's that. She talks to him regularly, casually, like he's not the odd one out, the pariah, like he's normal.

He's her friend, and Gryffindors are loyal, right? But Merlin, the dreamy gazes he sneds her way always make her do a double take, because with his blonde-hair-blue-eyes, he looks almost _angelic _(which is _sososo_ far from the truth).

* * *

"What are the notes?" She hisses to him, peeking at him through the corner of her eye, and sure enough, he's not paying any attention whatsoever. He has that hazy-eyed look again, and for some reason, she feels her heart flutter for a moment in her chest.

She ponders it for a moment, then waves it off, because they have a purely _platonic _relationship and he's just an experiment, someone else to be toyed with.

(She can fix him, she knows she can.)

* * *

And then one day she's talking to him and _again, again, again_, he's not paying attention and then, she loses it.

She stands up and brings her face dangerously close to his until she _knows_ he's back in reality, and then she crushes her lips on hers, hoping to elicit some sort of response out of this completely (un)ordinary boy.

He stares at her the whole time she's kissing him, and it unnerves her, really, the way he stares at her with that intensity, so she pulls away.

"Roxanne, I'm sorry, please, I can't-" He's pleading with her, and she feels her temper rising to the surface with every _stupid goddamned abnormal_ word.

And then she notices something when he looks at her, because he's looking like someone with emotion and feeling, and not someone who daydreams half the fucking time, and maybe…

Maybe he never needed fixing.

* * *

So when he runs off with Lucy, (who's just as unusual as he is, with her attraction to Muggle hobbies), she smiles sadly and feels her heart getting torn just a little bit more, because her stupid experiment failed and he didn't need _any_ fixing and she shouldn't have tried.

She's too real for Lorcan, the dream boy, anyway.


	3. flame: MollyTeddy

**pairing: **TeddyMolly  
**words: **634

**flame  
**live, i wanna live on fire  
die, i wanna burn out brighter  
_/burn out brighter, anberlin/  
_;;

* * *

They're all flames, the lot of them, only she's the only one to burn out (brighter?).

She will watch him leave without a fight, without a word or a moment of truth because she is Molly, and she's never been one to tempt fate, anyway. (So why bother, really?)

He will leave with no thoughts of Molly and her burning flame, the flame that is dying out, and will instead seek Lily or Victoire or one of those people he's much better suited for.

(I mean, Molly's just a flickering flame compared to those blazing infernos, right?)

* * *

"Hi, Teddy." She ducks her head to hide behind that curtain of red curls because she's afraid to see what his reaction will be.

He looks around him for a moment, craning his head to find the speaker, but by that time, she's scurried away with her paint-splattered hands and soulful eyes and he never does find out who spoke to him.

She sometimes wonders what it'd be like to be named something different, something not recycled, a nice name like Amelia or Nicole or Kate, but instead she's named after her almost senile grandmother (and maybe Molly [II]'s just a little bit bitter.)

But then she remembers James and Albus and Alice and Lily, and oh, how they _blaze_ with their secondhand names, and she thinks maybe she just wasn't mean to shine like they do.

* * *

She paints a lot, you know. Pretty pictures are enough to subdue her for now, so that's what she does, paints and paints and paints some more. People don't know who she paints, because the man is always changing, ever-changing, and it's quite obviously Teddy but they don't realize.

(Because she's Molly and she doesn't go for heartbreakers like that.)

(Right?)

She's only spoken two words to him in her lifetime, even though they see each other at family reunions _all the time_, but it's not like he pays any attention to her, anyway, the pathetic flickering (fading) flame in the corner.

(Boy, don't blow her out.)

* * *

And maybe it's a little ridiculous that she loves him so goddamn much (everyone thinks so), but then again, every girl's bound to fall for himbecause he's Teddy Lupin, and he's too charming for his own good.

Look at Lily, the Slytherin princess, the rebellious one, the snarky one, she's still in love with him and (what a surprise) he hasn't even noticed yet. Look at Dominique, the wannabe one that lets herself get used, over and over again and won't even _admit _she's fallen hard for her sister's man. And finally, _finally _look at Victoire, always so calm and soothing, always letting that Veela charm go out-of-control, and she's the one that _married_ him, for Merlin's sake!

(So, she thinks, they can't really blame her, can they?)

* * *

"Teddy," she says his name timidly, as if afraid he'll _bite_, but she has to do this, because if she doesn't then she'll- "I love you."

His jaw drops open as he tries to find words to say- "I- uh, I- but I don't know- um, what?"

He splutters in his disbelief and she bites her lip, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Never mind."

He looks relieved and his lips ease up into a smile.

"So what can I do for you…" He searches for her name and her heart drops to her stomach. "…Molly?"

And then she flees, the feeling of disappointment is too much for her and she's fighting back the tears and maybe this is why she wasn't placed in Gryffindor.

"Did I say the wrong name?" He calls after her, worry evident in his tone.

_No_. She swallows her shame and lets it all go, and her flame dies out, finally, _finally._

(She knew it would, someday.)


	4. go: LilyTeddy

**a/n: this is also for "I dare you!" in the NextGen fanatics forum.  
dedicated to **_Amy is rockin_.

* * *

**pairing: **LilyTeddy  
**words: **2,404

**go  
**the way you move ain't fair, you know  
_/hey soul sister, train/  
_;;

* * *

You watch as he walks in with Rose, hand-in-hand. She looks so _happy_, you note, and your eyes roam over to his face. His eyes are not on Rose, as they should be, and you follow his line of vision and your chest tightens, seeing his eyes dead-set on Lily. _Your_ Lily (not).

Your eyes darken to an onyx, _inky_ black and you look back at the Malfoy boy, _glaring_hating_scowling_, and your hair turns to red because you've never been able to control your ever-changing emotions anyway. Victoire is by your side, and she glances at you quickly, seeing your angry hair and your even-angrier eyes directed toward one Scorpius Malfoy.

"What is it, Teddy?" She mumbles softly in your ear, her Veela hair brushing against your face and you fumble for an excuse, _any_ excuse.

"Rose is dating _him?_" You hiss this (un)convincingly, whirling around, and she turns toward you looking incredulous, and maybe you weren't as good an actor as you thought. She gives you a look and turns back to the ohsohappy couple, but his eyes are still on Lily, staring brazenly at her prettypretty eyes and prettypretty dress and prettypretty _everything_.

You look at Lily, and she's _winking_ at him, _goddammit_, and what the _hell_, doesn't she know not to flirt with taken men? You quickly backtrack, because she's done this to _you_ as well, and you gave in as well, _you_ surrendered as well, and you look away from her ashamedly. You vow to have a talk with the Malfoy boy later, because you can't watch him flirt with _Li—_you can't watch as he cheats on Rose.

You stare intently at the two for the next hour, and Victoire asks you to dance (about a million times), but you decline every time because you have to keep an eye on them. Finally, you see him approaching Lily, pressing his lips to her hand and leading her to the dance floor, and Rose is trying to calm her father down because he doesn't approve of his daughter's newfound relationship so she doesn't notice her boyfriend and her cousin dancing in the middle of the floor.

You watch as his hands slide down to her lower back, toward her bum (_too close_) and you clench your fists, resisting the urge to punch this prick_._ You watch as his mouth lowers to her ear, probably whispering sweet nothings (things he says to every girl) and you watch as she giggles, her tinkling laugh ringing in the air, suffocating everyone in her happiness (and infidelity). You hopehopehope Rose notices, so she can break the goddamned pair apart, so he can _get his hands off of Lil—_so he can stop being the cheating bastard he is.

Four songs later (too long _too long_ too long), you let out a sigh of relief (and despair) as they break apart, because _his hands were on her bum_ and _her arms were wound tightly around his neck_ and Rose stilldidn't notice. He kisses her hand again, then gives her a smoldering look, and she smiles at him, dazzle_-_sparkle, and he's already swept her off her feet and you can't have _that_, can you?

So when he rushes off for drinks, you follow him and you tap him on the shoulder. He turns to you, looking indifferent, a bored look on his face, because you've never talked to him before and frankly, he doesn't care who you are, so why are you talking to him now? (Because before, his hands weren't all over Lily's bum.)

"Teddy Lupin," your voice is gruff because you're trying to sound tough and threatening and this is _so_ not you, always the little Hufflepuff, but this is about _Lily,_ so it matters, right?

"Scorpius Malfoy." His voice is smooth and suave and you hate it, you hate it, you _hate it._

"So, I saw you with Lily."

You attempt to say it casually, but a hint of anger seeps in and he notices, quirking an eyebrow at your behavior.

"And?" He prompts coldly, and you're at a loss for words, you're this angry. Your hands start to shake; who does this bastard think he is? How can he just go off and touch Lily like tha—you correct yourself—how can he cheat on Rose? Your eyes flash and your hair, a neutral yellow, fades into red, blazing_angry_fuming.

"You're cheating on Rose. With her cousin," You growl, and he simply gives you a look.

"I'm not cheating on Rose."

Your fingers dig into your palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks you're sure to find later, but you have to keep clenching your fists, because if you don't, you'll punch him, and that won't do.

"Your hands were on Lily's bum."

"And…?"

"I think that classifies as cheating, you ass." You snarl to him, you're liking him less and less with every passing second.

"I'm not an ass, and I'm not cheating on Rose. Besides, Lily is my friend."

"You don't touch your friends' bums! And _I'm_ Lily's friend too! We've been best friends her whole life!" You blurt out smugly, and you wait to see his reaction.

He sips from his glass, still looking nonchalant and cool and _calm_, and when he's done, he smirks at you.

"Last I heard, you two haven't talked for the past four years. _I've_ been there for her." He leers at you, and your jaw clenches tightly. Hearing the words coming out of his mouth isn't helping in the slightest, and suddenly you feel guiltyguilty_guilty._

"She's still my best friend. So what if you'vebeen there for her? _You're_ a player that fucks anything with breasts!" The people standing near you two give you a look, and you lower your voice before Rose, _or worse_, Lily, overhears.

He looks angry now, and you smirk satisfactorily at him.

He snarls, "_I do not_," and then you know you've gone too far, but this is worth it because he _can't_ do this to Lil—Rose. It seems he's lost his self-control and his fist collides with your cheek, and you're too angry to care if anyone's watching, so you take a swing back, hitting him squarely in the eye and eliciting a groan from him. Your face morphs into something grotesque and monstrous and since when did Teddy Remus Lupin get this angry?

"_Stop fighting_, you _idiots_." Her voice cuts in, leaving you and him glaring at each other, both of you clutching your bruised faces. She glares at you so sharply _you swear you feel a knife cutting_ _through your heart_. He glances at her coolly, and she shakes that head of fire disappointedly, (to you?) and you crumple because Lily's always had that effect on you.

"Lily, I was just—" She stops you with her hand—her small freckled hand, that's all it takes to quiet you down—and you gape openly at her, mouthing wordlessly.

"Stop fighting with Scorpius about me, Teddy. You are in no way a part of my life, so stop butting in," A flash of hurt flickers across her face and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around her and _never let go_, but Scorpius gets to her first and hewraps his arm around her and _god,_ you wish you could punch him again.

"_What_ is going on here?" Rose's voice, thank Merlin, rings out, clear and crisp, and her words hover in the tense air. You look over at them, _who were hugging just five seconds ago_, but his arms are at his sides and hers are folded across her chest and they've got their best poker-face on, _god-fucking-dammit._

"Why don't you ask dear Scorpius here? I'm _sure_ _he_ knows what was going on," You say it maliciously, _spitefully_, and Lily gives you a warning look but you pay no attention, _she doesn't control you_, no.

"Scorp? What's Teddy talking about?" She looks suspicious, and seeing the look on her face, you can't just stand there and pretend that nothing was going on, so you say it, _you say it._

"Your boyfriend's cheating on you with your cousin," the words come out and Rose's whole face just hardensand she turns to look at her boyfriend and you smile satisfactorily. Lily gives you her _death-glare_, but you refuse to succumb to her, she's _eleven years too young_ and she does_ not_ have this sort of control over you.

Scorpius looks his girlfriend in the eye, not looking the _slightest bit _guilty, all emotion wiped clean off his face. At this point, you're not opposed to strangling the goddamned Malfoy boy.

"Is this true?" Rose's voice is dangerously low, her eyes are burning with firefire, and Scorpius nods defiantly after a minute, and Lily looks away (not) guiltily.

There is silence, then…

"We're done, Malfoy_._" Rose's hand comes up, and she's suddenly face-to-face with the Malfoy boy, and she looks like she's about to slap the git, but she shakes her head and lowers it instead. She rolls her eyes and gives him a disappointed look. "You don't even _deserve_…I can't even…Go to hell, Malfoy."

And Rose walks away because she's always been strong, and Scorpius is trying his hardest to look indifferent, and Lily is biting her lip, watching her cousin disappear into the crowd of colorful skirts and drunken men. You turn back to them with a disgusted-_disgusted_ look on your face, hair changing colors so fast they're a blur, and you give them a long look, before walking away.

_(And you feel your heart b-b-breaking.)_

* * *

It's a Saturday night, rainy and thundering and there is a pounding on your door. You glance at the clock, putting down your pen and standing up. With an irritated look on your face, you open the door and there is Scorpius Malfoy. Your eyes flash to an onyx black and your hair changes to flaming red and you glare at him until you realize _Scorpius Malfoy_ is standing on your doorstep.

And you promptly slam the door.

"Teddy! Lupin, _open this door_!" He commands, but _no way in hell_ are you going to listen. "I'll blast the door down!"

You pay no attention to his threat and go back to your desk, picking up the pen once again. A resounding boom fills the room, and suddenly, your door is blasted to pieces and a sopping wet Malfoy is standing in your living room, looking _abso-fucking-lutely_ livid.

"You _arsehole_!" He bellows at you and his face is red_redred _(so different from his usual pale demeanor), and you stare at him coolly, calmly.

"Funny, I think I should be the one saying that to you, not the other way round." He flinches at your retort and clenches his wand. You hope he is feeling guilty, but you can already tell from the look on his face that he is(n't).

"I, you…she…" He pauses and you wait for him to go on. "She fucking left me."

Your eyes flash dangerously.

"Who, Rose? Oh, goodie, now you can go fuck around with Lily," you turn away before he can say any more. He lets out a disgruntled sound.

"I wasn't talking about Rose, you idiot, but she's left me as well, _you already knew that._"

Your heart skips a beat, sensing Lily's name on the tip of his tongue. You wonder briefly whether he is lying or not.

"She wants to be with you."

Your heart speeds up and your hands get clammy.

Suddenly, you feel dizzy.

"What are you standing there for, you twat? She wants _you_. Go get her." He sounds malicious, and _maybe he is_ telling the truth, _maybe Lily does_ want him. (But you're not _sure_, are you?)

His words bring you back to reality and you sway a little. Your hand stretches out, grabbing the corner of your mahogany desk, the edge digging into your palm. You reach for the glass of wine on the desk, downing the cup in one go.

"I…I…I…she doesn't want me back," You say miserably, holding the glass like your life depends on it. He glares at you and rolls his eyes.

"She does, trust me," he mutters something under his breath that you don't catch, but you don't care anyway.

"Why should I trust you?" You fix your eyes on him and he looks up at you with an ugly look on his face.

"Because I want her to be happy, and if _you're _what it takes, then I'll give her up any day."

* * *

And five minutes later, you're out in the rain with only an umbrella and a windbreaker, Apparating to so many different places, _Lily's_ places, and you're filled with a hope you haven't had in forever.

You search Lenny's bar, her favorite pub, but she isn't there, lost in the drunken men and empty shouts. You search the Leaky Cauldron, Twilfitt and Tatting's, Madame Malkin's, Slug and Jiggers Apothecary but she's not _anywhere_, it seems.

And you're just about to give up when you see a redheaded girl stumbling around in Diagon Alley, obviously drunk and your lips twitch up into a smile, because it's _Lily_, it's _her_. You run to her, hold her up while she sobs into your shirt, smelling of fuchsia and beer and _god,_ you've missed her so much. Her tears stream into your shirt, leaving a mess of sorrow and desolation and regret, and you find you love her even more, now.

_You love her._ It hits you like a ton of bricks and elation is sweeping over you, consuming you and trying to wriggle its way out of you and to Lily as well.

"Lily, I—" You wrap your arms around her even tighter, and she looks at you through red eyelashes, the mascara smeared on her face, and she looks more beautiful than ever to you, really.

And you can't help yourself and you kiss her, and then _hell_, you're on cloud nine.

And then your world completes itself, straightens out its folds and creases, fixes itself of any problems it's _ever_ had and you and her become a tangled mess of hands and lips and tongues, and finally, _finally_, all is well.

* * *

You get married to her and it's a quiet wedding, and when you see Scorpius and Rose standing near the doorway, rings on both their fingers, you give a slight nod—

And you say "I do."


	5. seductress: MollyScorpius

**a/n: dedicated to **Mystii**, whom i love with all my heart. tag, you're it!**

* * *

**pairing: **ScorpiusMolly  
**words: **837

**seductress**  
'cause every time you smile,  
i smile**  
**_/jump then fall, taylor swift/  
_;;

* * *

"Hi, I'm Molly," I grab his hand and pump enthusiastically. He is caught off-guard (of course, everyone is when they're around me) but he shakes my hand back. I can already tell he is extremely attracted to me and my incessant arm-shaking.

"I'm…Scorpius?" He looks at me and is _obviously_ confused, but before he can say a word, I kiss him full on the lips and it lasts about three seconds before I pull away. Then I grin broadly at him, flashing my pearly whites and I dance away, leaving him standing there with a dazed look on his face.

I can tell we're off to a great start.

* * *

The next time I see him is at a family reunion, exactly one year and twenty two days later. I spot his blonde head in a mass of red and I approach him, wiggling my hips a bit to look sexy. He gives me a look, eyebrows scrunched up, so surely he is charmed by my alluring ways! Yes, Molly Weasley II is a born seductress!

I flash him a broad grin to remind him of who I am (of course, I'm unforgettable, so I really shouldn't bother, but you know. Some people, I don't know why, but they tend to forget about my charm and wit. And modesty. Honestly, I don't know how they can forget my modesty, I mean, _really_!)

"'Lo, Scorpius! How're you doing? I mean, I'm doing great, thanks. Of course, that was what you were about to ask me, right?" He barely nods before I barrel onward. "I just got this new sundress and I think it's rather pretty. It reminds me of a butterfly, you know. And it's yellow, so obviously,I _adore_ it. My favorite color is yellow. Do you like yellow? Of course, gold is nice as well, but that gives you more of a 'Oh, I'm _so_ much cooler than you' kind of look, and I don't really like that, so I like yellow better. I mean, it means happiness, right?" I stop to take a breath and he stares at me, awkwardly opening his mouth but I beat him to it.

"Oh, yes, I know, you love the color yellow as well! What a coincidence, right? Or maybe I should say 'coinky-dink', because that seems to be what Muggles say often." I try to think back to where I heard the expression before, then shake my head because it doesn't matter. He stares at me long and hard (he's probably just getting lost in my eyes, I know, I'm such a charmer!) and then shakes his head.

I glance at my bare wrist.

"Oh, look at the time! Sorry, I've got to go! Ta-ta!" I say one last alluring sentence and then I sweep off gracefully, accidentily crashing into a lamp, and it hits the floor, and then I fall and get tangled on top of it. It is quite evident he is attracted to my grace and poise as I wave to him from the floor, grinning in what is surely a seductive way.

He waves back.

(Clearly, he is falling deeply in love with me.)

* * *

I see him fifty three days later in the middle of July. I have a boyfriend now, Lysander Scamander, and I think it is time for dear Scorpius and I to part.

I muster up my courage, armpits sweating profusely and I shake my head violently, attempting to make my hair look tousled and sexier than normal.

Then I walk over to him.

"Hello, Scorpius," I say gravely but he is too distracted by my hair flipping that he barely hears me. Of course, boys and their hormones. I stop flipping my hair for a second- which is good, because my neck is awfully sore- and he finally looks at my face. I do one last hair flip.

"Is your neck okay?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, and he sounds mildly concerned in my ears, and I am touched because he is worried about my health! But I cannot be with him.

"Don't." I hold up my hand and close my eyes, not wanting to see Scorpius cry before my very eyes, which is something he will surely do. "I'm sorry, Scorpius. We can't be together anymore. We've had so many good times together. Remember Fluffy?"

He stares at me, and I am sure he is just too shocked and depressed, this must be killing him right now. I shake my head sadly and flip my hair again, but by now, I do not think he wants to fall any harder for me and my alluring ways.

"We have to break up, for I have found solace in Lysander." I say melodramatically and I sigh. "I am deeply sorry."

And then I walk away and leave him staring after me. I am positive he is sobbing by now so I don't look back, to save him some embarrassment.

(Alas, my seductress moves are much too irrestable.)

(Especially my hair flips.)


	6. cheat: FredRina

**a/n: for **AccioHope** because she requested this!**

* * *

**pairing: **FredRina  
**words: **657

**cheat  
**'cause the next time that he cheats,  
oh, you know it won't be on me  
_/before he cheats, carrie underwood/  
_;;

* * *

"We can't do this anymore." She says it bluntly and he is caught off-guard (well, not _really._) She pulls her shirt over her head, slipping her head under the pink fabric and he swears _this is a joke, this is a joke._

"What do you mean?" He tries to sound casual but desperation seeps in and he cannot stop it. His hands fist in the scarlet sheets of his bed as she narrows her eyes at him, shimmying into her shorts and cocking an eyebrow.

"You know exactly what I mean, Fred." She is practically radiating frustration, but he does not care, _they can't end this_- not here, not now (_not ever_). "He's suspecting us, and I feel guilty."

"No- he isn't, he doesn't know, Rina. I promise you, he won't ever know." The desperation is obvious now (he ignores the guilt, _avoids_ the guilt) and she fixes her hair in the mirror, applying another coat of lipstick on her lips- _does she even care?_

"You shouldn't make promises you're going to break, Fred."

She leaves- _and doesn't look back._

* * *

He is able to live normally for a while- _that week of misery doesn't count_- avoiding her as much as possible at school, going through girls so fast that he doesn't even remember half their names anymore- _Anna; Mary; Danielle; Jane_- they mean nothing to him and he forgets them as soon as they leave. His jokes become excessive(ly annoying) and his laughter becomes louder and his pranks become more reckless- _but really, he just wants her to _see_ him again._

"Rina, please—wait!" She is walking briskly, _ignoring ignoring ignoring,_ and Merlin, he missess her so much it hurts. There is a dull ache in his chest no one can heal- it's always only temporary- and he takes hold of her arm and spins her around, her dark hair swinging out and hitting him across the face.

"_What_ is it, Fred? We're _done, _Fred, respect that." He tries to protest but she won't let him. "Fred, it meant nothing to me, absolutely _no—_"

He can't let those words spill out of her mouth, or he fears his heart will truly break, tear, rip into shattered pieces of forbidden love and guilt and betrayal—_because that's exactly what he is doing, what he _is.

He is just a faded smile on a sunny day, a (fake) heart laugh at those (stupid) jokes, a ray of sunshine—_turned raincloud. _(And yes, it's all her fault—the corrupter of innocent wishes and dreams and longing to be _someone else, _because that is the old Fred and _it's her fault._)

_(He can't really blame her.)_

So he kisses her, just so she won't break his heart, devour his soul, and he knows this is _real, _this is _love_; this is not those fake wands or stupid pranks or stupid dreams to be _exactly_ like his dead Uncle, this is _Rina_ and she is pure, unaffected, untainted, just _raw_ beauty and honestly and bluntness.

She protests against his lips, her hands on his chest, pushing him away, but that only spurs him on more and he kisses her with more ferocity- and then she stops trying and just _gives in_ to his kisses.

"Fred—this- is- the- last- time," She pants between kisses and she grabs his callused hands and pulls him into a nearby broom closet, lost in hands and _love_ and _real magic._

(It's such a cliché—_except it's not_.)

* * *

"That was, um, nice."

"Yeah, it is. I've missed you, Ri."

"I've missed you too."

A pause.

"We can make this work, you know."

"I know."

And then he pulls her down on top of him again, kisses of fire and touches of purity and _god_, he wishes this moment could last forever. (So does she.)

* * *

And after, he's tracing circles on her arm, smiling in that lopsided way of his, and—

"Who's going to tell James?"


	7. unexpected: JamesAlysha

**a/n: for the **Slytherin Corner **forum—i love y'all.**

* * *

**pairing: **JamesAlysha  
**words: **1,102

**unexpected  
**tell the devil i said 'hey' when you  
get back to where you're from  
_/grenade, bruno mars/_  
;;

* * *

It's one of _those_ days—one of the days with the off-chance that she and Louis just so happen to both be in a bad mood at the same time. It's a rare occurrence, one that happens none too often, but when it does, it tends to leave destruction in its wake, (slightly) shattered hearts and (slightly) hopeless dreams.

That's why, on this day, she's sitting in some dingy old pub, ordering drink after drink after drink ("On the rocks, _please_") instead of lying in Louis' arms at _home_, where she belongs.

"Get out of here!" the bartender, smiling—a girl with mascara-coated eyes and a young face—calls to some black-haired guy—medium build, a smirk on his face, hands shoved in his pockets—it's _James fucking Potter._ He winks at her, and—

"He's with me." She blurts out unexpectedly (obviously drunken, because she's never liked James much) and the bartender gives her a skeptical look and she answers with a reassuring smile. "He's my cousin-in-law." The bartender nods and walks away reluctantly, hips swaying a little too much to be _normal_, and James eyes her appreciatively.

She rolls her eyes and slaps James on the arm. "Pig."

Eyes twinkling—_no, she didn't just notice that_—he replies with an eyebrow raised. "Jealous, Zabini?"

"Please. I'm twenty-seven; I've got a wonderful husband waiting for me at home; why on earth would I be jealous?" She retorts, and dips a finger in her glass, letting the liquid glide over the tip of it—he frowns.

"Says the girl sitting alone in a bar. What did he do this time, my cousin?" James shoots her a questioning look and before she can come up with a rude reply, she sees the genuine curiosity in his eyes and she sighs.

"I don't actually know. One minute, he's happy as a clam and completely chipper, the next minute, he's shouting." She brings her eyes up to meet his.

"I think he's PMSing." He says in all seriousness before laughter bursts out of both of their lips, and soon they're doubled over on their stools, giggling—_it's the alcohol, she knows it_.

"You two all right?" The bartender is back and is giving them both suspicious looks (_please_, she just wants to get in his pants), and her skirt looks considerably shorter and her shirt looks like a few more buttons have been undone.

"We're fine." Alysha finds herself snapping, James beside her, giving her an incredulous look. The bartender glares at her for a moment before leaving.

"Wow, Aly, no need to be so rude to the poor bartender." He stares after the girl, eyes trained on her wiggling bum and Alysha digs her fingers into the table. "I bet I could cheer her up, right?" He wiggles his eyebrows and suddenly she remembers why she'd hated him throughout their years in Hogwarts. It hits her and _god,_ she just wants to get away from him now.

"_Don't_ call me Aly, Potter. And she's way too young, she's barely even legal!" She sniffs disdainfully; her defenses are back up again.

"Back to last name basis, huh, Zabini?" He completely ignores the second comment—_she's way too young—_because _really, _they both know he's been with girls even younger—eighteen, seventeen, what does it matter to him? "Well, with you being such a prude, I wouldn't be surprised if Louis decided to get his lay elsewhere. You guys haven't had sex, have you? I expect you're a virgin?"

She stands up—fire crackling in her too-dark eyes and she picks up her glass, pours her glass over his head and, shooting him a look of such _loathing_ that she's surprised he wasn't quaking in his stupid dragon-hide boots, she storms out the door.

He sits there, stony-eyed and sopping wet and—and—he runs after her, apologies already forming in his mouth.

She's already crossing the street, green jacket huddled around her, arms raised in a desperate attempt to cover herself from the rain and he comes up behind her, breathing hard.

"Look, Zabini, I'm sorry, alright?" He grabs hold of her arms and stares at her, the rain washing away the liquor (and something else, too) and she simply stands there, pulling her arms out of his grasp and folding them across her chest.

"You're _not fucking sorry, _okay?"

There's a sort of desperation in her voice, sorrow in her eyes, tension in the air—drowning both of them, _both of them_ as they stand there in the rain, red and green and _god_, it's such a cliché and she can't take it.

So she walks away (from him, from the cliché, _whatever_)—and he watches her go.

* * *

He calls her (because she likes Muggle things_, okay?_)—once, twice, _three_ times. She ignores him all three times, until he shows up at her and Louis' door, donned in a pink dress (with _frills_, no less!) and she can't help but laugh, seeing the ridiculous sight at her doorway.

"Where's Louis?" He grunts, peering around her tiny figure and she shakes her head, the laughter dying in her throat.

"He's at work. We had another fight." She mumbles, not looking him in the eye and he scratches his head, looking confused. She brushes it off and asks coolly, "What're you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, alright?" He leans on the doorway, the muscles in his arms rippling and she takes a step back, glaring at him again.

"_Stop_ it. _Stop _apologizing."

He looks shocked (_right_, like he didn't know this would happen.)

"Um- I thought it was what you wanted." She'd already started shaking her head before he got two words out, her plait swinging back and forth behind her, rolling her eyes.

"It's _not_ what I want, Potter. We've been mutual _enemies—_" He cringes. "—since the _beginning._ Since the _very fucking beginning, _okay? And it's too big of a change if we suddenly start being acquaintances or something like that." She finishes, and glares at him with that fire burning in her coal eyes, all coolcool ice and burninghot fire rolled into one. "So _go the fuck aw—_"

And then—(god, this whole thing is just a cliché, isn't it?)—he leans in, cups her face in his hands, and _he kisses her._

(And, it's a mistake, she knows, and _obviously, _it's unexpected, so maybe she- maybe she-)

(She kisses him back and then they're too far gone.)

* * *

And then, months later, Louis' run off with some other witch (Elina or Ella or Emma or something like that), and—

"_Alysha_ and _James _are _dating_?"


	8. awkward: HugoEmma

**a/n: for **SidSaid**, for the request. also for **the NextGen Fanatics**, because they're the coolest.**

* * *

**pairing: **HugoEmma  
**words: **1,142

**awkward  
**my heart's crippled by the vein that i keep on closing  
you cut me open and i  
keep bleeding, (keep, keep bleeding) love  
_/bleeding love, leona lewis/  
_;;

* * *

He's only seen her once before, that girl with those eyes, the ones that appear to have seen far beyond anything _he's_ seen and it's all he can do not to stare at her.

"Emma Smith." She seems to dissect him with her eyes, those amber eyes, and then something registers in him, the last name sparks something in him, some story (long-forgotten) told by his father about his years at Hogwarts, and then a funny feeling stirs in his abdomen.

"Weasley. Hugo Weasley." He makes an attempt at being debonair like his cousin Louis, but she does not get the Muggle reference (James Bond, hello) and he drops it. An awkward silence hangs in the air, with only the wind blowing around them, unsaid words and analyzing gazes.

"It's nice to meet you." She smiles reluctantly and then turns away to greet someone else.

"What was _that_, Hugo?" He mutters to himself as soon as she turns away, running a hand through his carroty hair (a habit he's developed from Uncle Harry) and shakes his head disappointedly.

He's known for a long time now_—nothing ever goes the way he wants them to._

* * *

The summer holidays are now over and they head back to school, trunks loaded with new clothes and corned beef sandwiches stuffed in their pockets, made special from their _dear_ grandma Molly.

"Um- 'lo, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm—" He stumbles over his words because he's Hugo and has always been clumsy like that.

"Hugo Weasley, yes, I know."

"Well-I just wanted to say 'hello'." He pushes his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and she smiles politely.

"Hello." She pauses and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've kind of got to go now, sorry…" She gestures to her friends, waiting for her nearby and Hugo nods.

"Sure. I'll—uh, see you later?" She shoots him a questioning look and his ears heat up. "I mean, I won't see you, because I'm in, er, Ravenclaw and you're in Hufflepuff, but yeah. Um, bye."

She nods slowly and gives him another polite smile before striding away again, blonde curls bouncing softly on her back…

And he finds he's never wanted anything more.

* * *

She lets out a long breath as she reaches her friends, grabbing hold of one of her curls and pulling it, letting it spring away from her fingers.

"Talking to Hugo Weasley, huh?" One of her friends pipes up, looking so envious it's ridiculous. Emma stands there quietly thinking _fame is so overrated_ and_ don't they know what his dad did to her mum?_

"That's right. I don't think I like him much, though." She says quietly and they stare at her, lips parted and eyebrows raised skeptically.

"Why not?" A voice emerges from behind, demanding an answer and she sees grass-green eyes and cherry hair and it's _Lily Potter_, and _oh, this is just peachy._

Lily's standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, lips pursed, eyes narrowed—and frankly, Emma's never been more terrified of a Fourth Year than she is now.

She takes a deep breath and gathers up her courage, and manages to force out one sentence.

"Because of his dad."

Lily blanches, obviously not expecting that answer. "Um, _what_? Uncle Ron?"

"Ron Weasley dated my mum. And he dumped her." Her voice is trembling but by now, she could care less. Lily gives her a long look, one that is meant to disarm someone and Emma takes a step back, flinching.

"Sorry—I've been observing him, and- well, he's not much like his dad- as far as I can see-but I can never be too sure. I'm sorry, I just—"

"He likes you, you know." The redhead glances at her interestedly. "I think you'd make a good match for him." Then- with those words, Lily leaves, off to find her Slytherin friends and Emma stands there, incredulous.

That Lily Potter never ceases to amaze her.

* * *

"Hi, Emma." Hugo smiles at her awkwardly, pushing his glasses up again—_it seems to be a habit of his_, she notices.

She hesitates. "Hello."

His smile grows wider and his ears flush, but she pretends not to notice. And with a wave, he walks away.

* * *

"Emma. Emma. _Emma!_" He calls after her, panting as he tries to catch up with her. She stops for a moment, turning back to glance at the boy.

"Yes, Hugo?"

"You, er, dropped your quill." He blushes furiously. He thrusts it into her hands. "Um, I should go- er- plan my Hogsmeade trip next week with my mates—" He pauses, looking like he really doesn't want to say this, but he does—"Well, um, you going with anyone?"

She almost smiles when she sees how embarrassed he looks, it's almost _adorable, _really. Almost.

"No, I'm not."

She waits for him to ask her out, but all he does is nod and scratch his head.

"Oh, uh, okay." He says, and then he walks away, waving a goodbye.

She's surprised.

* * *

"Hugo." She nods at him and he turns red.

"Oh! 'Lo, Emma!" He looks hopeful and his friends nudge him forward. He stumbles toward her and sucks in a breath. "Well, I was kind of- uh- wondering if you'd like to…um…go-to-Hogsmeade-with-me?"

She'd anticipated this. She'd known this would happen eventually, so she answers—

"Sure."

The date is awkward and bumbling and Hugo spills butterbeer on her new shirt- but she continues with the relationship and (maybe) she (might be) good for him.

* * *

Until one day.

* * *

"Y'know, Hugo, I don't particularly like any of your family…" She admits, raising her head for his reaction. He shrugs.

"They can be right gits sometimes."

She takes this as a cue to go on. "Yes, they can. And they're a bit stuck up, really. And they don't think of anyone else but themselves." She glances at him, chewing on her lip.

"Well, they _can_ be a _bit_ selfish—"

She cuts him off, not noticing that he looks uncomfortable. "No offense, but they're pricks, absolute pricks. And the girls can be a bit annoying, especially Lily Potter."

Now, _this_ is when Hugo has to make a decision. This girl—this girl of his dreams—or his family. (And vaguely, he's thinking "Aren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be nice?")

"They're _not_ pricks, and Lily's one of my best friends, so can you stop talking about my family like that?" He's chosen his family, it's obvious, and she realizes this.

"Oh." She puts her butterbeer down and stands up. He's looking pained—conflicted, even, and she stares at him long and hard, biting her lip, though it doesn't look like he's going to apologize.

She starts for the door and it's an unspoken agreement that this relationship is over.

(And surprisingly, his heart feels completely whole.)

* * *

**a/n: meh, not my best, i'm tired; review please?**


	9. unlucky: LucyLysander

**a/n: for **AcaciaThorn** because i love her & she's supermegafoxyawesome.**

* * *

**pairing: **LucyLysander**  
words: **792

**(un)lucky  
**i'm lucky i'm in love with my best friend  
lucky to have been where i have been  
_/lucky, colbie caillat & Jason mraz/  
_;;

* * *

**once upon a time; six**

"Ly, are you my best friend?" Lucy asks him, swinging her legs back and forth and he smiles toothily.

"Of course, Luce!" He grabs her hand.

"_Best_ best friend? Even more than Lorcan?" She asks him, innocence glowing bright in her eyes as she watches his reaction.

"More than Lorcan," He promises, nodding vigorously, and she finally smiles.

He carves their names (together) into a nearby log and then they, hand-in-hand, run home.

* * *

**dream big; eight**

"Luce, what d'ya want to be when we're grown up?" Lysander asks her, and all contact is avoided because this is the age of cooties and _ew, boys_ and _gross, girls_ but that doesn't mean they can't be _friends_, right?

"I dunno, Ly." Her forehead creases in concentration, then- "I like writing. It's fun. Maybe I'll be a writer. What 'bout you?"

He shrugs, scratching absentmindedly at a scab on his arm.

"Not sure. I think Mum and Papa want me to own the magazine, though." He frowns. "I don't think I wanna."

"I think you could be a professor or something, like Uncle Neville. You're good at that stuff." She pauses and he smiles. "Doesn't matter though. When we grow up, we'll stick together, right Ly?" She sounds so determined that he (almost) believes her.

"Right."

* * *

**first day; eleven**

"Lysander! Lysander! _Ly!_" She calls after him, blonde hair askew and dragging a trunk behind her, and he turns around, smiling. She crashes into him, wrapping her arms around him and he automatically hugs her back.

"I've missed you, Luce. Haven't seen you all summer!" He grins and his hair- cut short- looks so ridiculous that someday, he'll look back and laugh, but for now, they're just two ignorant children excited for their first day of school.

"Yeah, I know! Aren't you so excited? It's our first day!" Lucy bites her lip, eyes sparkling and he can't help but beam back at her.

"I've been looking forward to this day _all summer_!"

And then Molly- a third year- walks by and winks at them, wiggling her eyebrows—and that's when they both blush— and then, _that's_ when everything changes.

* * *

**awkward stages; thirteen**

"Um, hey, Lucy." Lysander mumbles, staring down at his feet as the back of his neck heats up.

She's looking just as uncomfortable.

"'Lo, Lysander." They're using their full names now and _god_, they wish they could get rid of the tension in the air. Lysander's hair flops in front of his eyes and he doesn't bother pushing it away.

Lysander scratches his head.

Lucy shuffles her feet.

(_God, _could it get any more awkward?)

* * *

**exasperated; fifteen**

"I've got a boyfriend, Ly!" Her eyes are so bright, so happy that he (almost) doesn't have that sinking feeling in his stomach.

He tries to smile. "Good for you, Luce."

All he really wants to do, though, is scream, and in two and a half days, they've broken up.

(And maybe, _maybe_ he's happy about it—just a little.)

* * *

**assumptions; sixteen**

"'Sander! Hey, 'Sander!" He turns around, smiling, to find Lucy behind him, dragging along some Hufflepuff boy and his heart sinks- _is this her new boyfriend_?

"I'd like to introduce you to…" She searches for her name and Lysander feels a bit better. "Matt. Matt Thomas."

The boy shakes his hand and Lysander tries to smile, tries so hard.

"So, are you two…dating, or something?" The boy—Matt, says tentatively and Lucy assumes an incredulous expression.

"No- why would you think that?" Her face breaks out into a dazzling smile and she throws Lysander a look like _that's-so-ridiculous_, and he nods, and his heart—might've, maybe—broken right there.

* * *

**impossible; seventeen**

"So, I heard." He says it- not sounding happy nor sad, just indifferent. She nods enthusiastically, wonderfully oblivious to the fact that _he's not happy about this_, _no, not at all._

"I know! I couldn't believe it when he asked me out! I mean, I've had a crush on him for _ages_ and- well, he never even _noticed_ me." She chatters on and he tries not to listen, but the words are coming in like a flood, a tidal wave and there's nothing he can do to stop them. "Even when I came to your house, he _still_ never _saw_ me. So it came as a surprise to me when he asked me out, but _oh my god, _Ly, I was _so_ happy! Lorcan-and-Lucy sounds good, doesn't it?"

He nods once and turns away before he does something stupid, because this is his _twin brother_'s and his _bestbest friend's_ happiness at stake, and he can't risk it.

(Oh, but he wish he could.)

* * *

**the end**

Lorcan-and-Lucy get married, and Lysander's heart is long past breaking.

(He grows old alone.)


	10. shine: RoseTeddy

**a/n: for **tardisandafirebolt** for requesting!**

* * *

**pairing: **RoseTeddy  
**words: **725

**shine  
**i'm not gonna write you a love song,  
'cause you asked for it,  
'cause you need one  
_/love song, sara bareilles/  
_;;

* * *

Shining was something Rose Weasley did not do. Sure, she was probably the most brilliant witch in Hogwarts since her mother, but that was not _shining_ to her. Shining was the ability to stand up on stage and sing your heart out, shining was the ability to present your paintings in front of hundreds and hundreds of people, shining was the ability to draw everyone's attention to you with a simple bat of your eyelashes.

Rose Weasley could not do any one of those things.

So, in conclusion, Rose Weasley did not shine.

* * *

"Rose…this isn't r_ight._ You're not supposed to be with me." He gives her a pleading look and her heart breaks.

If we were to go to the very beginning of this, we would find ourselves on the Christmas Day of 2011. A young girl, ten, red-haired and obviously Weasley, would be seen watching a man of twenty. He would not be paying attention to her, but to a blonde woman in his arms. And- if we were to observe even further, we would see the embarrassment in the girl's eyes—

But we are not going to the beginning of this, because the beginning is not what matters in this failed love story. In fact, we will be starting from the very middle, when she is seventeen-going-on-eighteen and he is twenty seven.

* * *

"I like you, y'know." She glances up at him, their naked bodies pressed tightly together under flimsy sheets and he smiles.

"I like you too."

* * *

The middle of this mess is something of a cliché, the guy with the blue-eyed blonde and the sudden realization that _oh, he's not happy after all._ And that's when the girl—the heroine of the story rushes in, red-hair-curls-flying and with a bit of development— they're together.

But not together in _that_ way, no, not a relationship.

Sex. That's it, really. It's just sex to him, just sex to her at first, secret meetings in closets and stupid attempts at romance, and that's when she realizes it's _not_ just sex.

* * *

"I—I have to tell you something, Teddy." She sits up, bare-breasted but right now, she doesn't care. He beckons for her to go on, trying to look serious but his eyes are twinkling with laughter and she sucks in a long breath. "I'm—well, I'm kind of, sort of…in love with you?"

His eyes—previously blue—darken to navy and he looks at her seriously.

"In _love_, Rose?"

She looks away and when he doesn't do anything, doesn't say anything, she starts to get up. "Forget it. It was nothing. I was just—never mind."

He nods and pulls her back to the bed.

They make love (that's what she'd like to believe) once again, and she almost feels it—almost.

* * *

Right after this part right here is when things change. It would be—as you call it—a climax. This is the _turning _point. This is when (normally) the guy would realize he was in love with the heroine. After all, this _is_ a love story, right?

Wrong.

* * *

"Rose—I was thinking about what you said earlier-"

"Teddy, I didn't—that wasn't…" She blushes. "I didn't mean that." She averts his eyes. It's obvious she meant it.

"No- let me finish." His eyes bore into hers and for once, they aren't betraying any emotion. "I'm not in love with you, Rose."

* * *

This is when Rose, the heroine, would normally a) break into tears or b) tries to throw things at him. This is the part of the (messed up) love story when the girl cries and the guy comforts her, and then they live happily ever after.

But Rose Weasley does not shine in that cliché way that love stories all seem to have. She does not cry.

* * *

"Okay." She crawls over to him again, pressing her lips to his and her skin is rubbing on his in such a _wonderful_ way, and—

"Rose…this isn't _right._ You're not supposed to be with me."

Her heart breaks.

* * *

We have finally arrived at the ending- or beginning, whatever- and this is where everything just sort of falls apart for Rose, the heroine never meant to shine, and maybe (obviously) she's in the wrong story.

Rose-and-Teddy was never meant to be—this love story was one that wasn't meant to happen—

Which is why it didn't.

* * *

**a/n: oh lord, was that confusing? sorry, guys. my head is pounding and i've been on a car for about ten hours, and this is **_**horrible**_**. reviews, please.**


	11. only time will tell: ScorpiusRose

**a/n: dedicated to **s i l v e r a u r o r a **because her writing, _ohmygod.

* * *

_**

**pairing: **ScorpiusRose  
**words: **1,639

**only time will tell  
**it's a love story,  
baby just say 'yes'.  
_/love story, taylor swift/

* * *

_

In 2023, Rose Weasley discovered she'd fallen in love, and broke someone's heart.

In 2023, Scorpius Malfoy found he loved someone—_really _loved—and did something about it.

* * *

2023

The room is illuminated by only a sliver of light shining brightly on the floor. Clothes are scattered here and there—everywhere—and they lie on the bed, shame rolling off of them in waves and guilt is overcoming them.

"Scorpius?" She says, her head resting on his bare chest and red hair fanning out, looking vibrant against his pale skin.

"Yes, Freckles?" His finger glides over her skin, tracing shapes absentmindedly, and tears spill over and suddenly his chest feels wet. He sits up, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I—I just—" She chokes on her words. "—can't do this anymore, _I can't_!" She cries out and she pulls the sheets around her, standing up. The curves of her body are heavily accented through the thin cloth and he feels his breath hitch.

She begins pulling on her clothing- underwear, shirt, skirt, stockings- and then he's sitting there, a strained look on his face.

"Are you leaving?" She senses the double meaning behind his words, hesitant, and she pauses in slipping into her shoes, biting her lip and _fighting_-_fighting-fighting_ back the tears.

She nods slowly. "Yeah."

She stops for a minute to look at him before turning away, cheeks glistening and then she rushes out.

2020

The beginning of this mess is marked by a dismal day in the middle of winter, when the flurry of snow is raging on outside and everyone is inside trying to stay as warm as they possibly can. A girl and a boy—redhead and blonde, respectively—stand in the middle of the crowd.

The clock reads ten fifty-nine.

"You're a prick, you know that?" snarls Rose and Scorpius quirks an eyebrow at her.

"Why thank you, Freckles." He smirks. She hates that smirk.

She scowls. "_Don't _call me that."

"Alright, Freckles."

She glowers in that way that only _Rose Weasley _can. "I hate you, y'know?"

"I know, Freckles."

The clock now reads eleven.

2023

"_What_, exactly, do you think you're doing?" She snaps at a First Year, who is now trying fruitlessly to stuff a Fanged Frisbee into his pocket—she confiscates it.

"Don't let me catch you with one of these again!" She barks.

The First Year sends her a terrified look and scampers away.

She is alone now.

2020

"_Freckles! _Psst, _Freckles!_" She can hear his voice and a warning bell is going off in her brain, saying _ignore-ignore-ignore_, but his hisses are getting annoying and she can't take it.

"For Merlin's sake—" She slams her book down. "—_what, _Malfoy?"

He grins. "Just wanted to see how you were doing."

She grabs her book, gives him the middle finger—(_"Miss Weasley!")_—and stalks out of the library.

The clock reads one twenty.

2023

It's funny, really, the way this girl—this girl who seems so Gryffindor, so brave—works. She's a picture of courage and daughter of heroes, a Ravenclaw (on the inside)—her mother's brains, you know. She's a Slytherin with her cunning, a Hufflepuff with her hard-working and she's all four houses mixed into one person, you see?

But really, she's none of that when it comes down to it. When you get to pure, untainted, _raw_ Rose Weasley, she is nothing but a girl who tries too hard—_always_ tries too hard.

Sometimes (most times) it doesn't end well.

2020

"Cute, Freckles," he passes her and winks, the girl on his arm (Alysha, was it?) rolling her eyes.

She's wearing a sundress, _yellow_, and a floppy hat and she looks like she's glowing, though he won't ever admit that.

"Thanks, Malfoy." She flashes him a quick grin and runs after her cousins, skin dotted with freckles and high heels that make her legs look like _forever_, and he smiles.

It is twelve thirty-one.

2023

Exactly twenty minutes after her departure, Rose begins to cry. Really cry, though, not the fake crying that Dominique does to get what she wants, nor the loud, attention-seeking crying that Lily does just so she can attract some sympathy.

This is real, honest crying, and since when does Rose Weasley do crying? She's normally the one running around trying _so hard_ to solve everyone's problems and ignoring her own, and suddenly, (thanks to Malfoy), Rose Weasley is crying.

And for some reason, it makes her feel _better_.

She cries some more.

2021

"I reckon we ought to be friends." It's a fresh start to a new school year and she's prepared for anything, _anything_, but this. Since when does Scorpius Malfoy want to be friends with Rose Weasley?

She stands there, still shell-shocked, but nods anyway. "Uh, sure."

He flashes her a quick smile and walks away.

This moment, this legendary moment, is at four twenty-three. (Like it matters much anyway.)

(Oh, but it matters. It matters _a lot_.)

2023

"Freck—Rose. Wait—_wait!_" She hears his voice and begins running, running, and hasn't this always been a game of _chase me, chase me_?

So he does.

2022

They've been friends for over a year—it's a record. They talk and laugh and just hang around (Al's _still_ not over it) and, well, they can't even remember the last time they fought.

It's funny, really, that they can just go from being enemies to friends, but anything's possible, right?

"Scorpius—hurry up, dammit." She sighs, tapping her foot and he throws a book at her. She neatly dodges it.

"Patience, Freckles." He smirks and she groans.

"We're late, y'know. It's already seven-oh-two."

"Don't think Al gives a fuck if we're two minutes late, Freckles."

She sighs again.

2023

"I don't want you, Scorpius! Go_ away_!" She runs faster, adrenaline coursing through her veins and he won't give up, he can't.

Not after all that happened. Not after that.

He won't ever stop chasing, will he?

2022

They share a drunken kiss at Al's party—but really, _more_ than a drunken kiss.

She wakes up in his bed. Naked.

And he's next to her.

Also naked.

"Fuck!" She shakes his arm and he stirs.

"Whuzzgoinon?" He groans and gets up, watching her through tired eyes. "_Rose_?"

"Malfoy—we- last night—_fuck_- we…well, we—"

She blushes.

"Fucked? Yeah, we kind of did."

"…"

"…"

"Want to do it again?"

"_Scorpius!"_

"Well, I was just asking."

She presses her lips to his and the clock reads eight twenty-seven.

2023

"Rose—Freckles—_stop_!" He yells after her. "Don't run away from this, Rose, _don't!_"

She stops and whirls around, and she is possibly the most beautiful sight he's ever seen with her lion-curls in tangles around her, scarlet-crimson-ruby all rolled into one and her clear blue eyes shining with what looks like _regret_ and he stops in his tracks.

"Malfoy," Her voice breaks, "I don't…I _can't."_

2022

They become _friends-with-benefits_, and it always ends up with someone hurt, or _both_ of them hurt, but they're willing to risk it. They meet in the Room of Requirement and tinytiny broom cupboards and empty classrooms. They find passion and zeal and it's _be-au-tiful _ and they shine brightbright_brighter_ than the stars, they do.

"Reckon we should try for a relationship?"

"No." She pauses. "No, that wouldn't work at all."

And they're both falling apart and tearing at the seams of this relationship-sex-_whatever_, slowly breaking apart and there are fissures, oh_so_many, but they try hard to keep things together, patched up, taped up, _fixed_ up.

It is nine fifty-three.

2023

"Rose, _please_, you can—_we_ can make this work." The look in her eyes tells him everything; that she's afraid, that she's skeptical- she's never been good with hiding her emotions. "_We can._"

"What if we can't?" She asks quietly and then she is a bundle of her worst fears on the neatly-tiled floor and he needs to make this work, he _needs_ to.

(He thinks he needs her more than anything.)

2022

"Y'know, this sex thing is good." She sighs after a particularly vigorous session and he chuckles.

"Agreed."

Two thirty-seven.

2023

"I- Scorpius, we don't match!" She cries; he closes his eyes. "We're not _supposed_ to be Romeo-and-Juliet, _star-crossed_ lovers!"

"Don't give up on this, Rose."

2022

"I kind of love you, did you know that?" He strokes her hair.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Scorpius, you know you don't have to say that, right? We're just having sex, y'know. It's not a big deal."

He shrugs. "It is to me."

Three fifteen.

2023

"I'm _not_ giving up! I'm just—just—_done trying, _Scorpius!" Her voice is a cross between a scream and a strangled sob and there's a hint of desperation he just can't miss.

"You're giving up, Freckles."

2022

"Really, though, maybe we can try for a relationship."

She snorts. "Right, right, and I'm going to go ride off into the sunset on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack named Fluffy with my best friend, Lucky the leprechaun."

He chortles. "I'm _serious_, Freckles."

"I'm sure you are."

Ten forty-eight.

2023

"You _bastard_," Tears are pouring out of her eyes with fierce abandon, but they're _angry _tears. "I'm _not _giving up!"

"Prove it."

2022

"You're really rather adorable, Freckles."

"Love you too, Scorpius."

One-oh-one.

2023

She walks up to him, fervor in every step, in every fiber of her being and then—

She kisses him. The kind of kiss that makes him forget about _every other girl _and _every other fling_ and makes him think of lion curls and clear _azure_ eyes, and that makes him feel _piss_ drunk but ohoh_oh_, he wouldn't give it up for the world.

"I'm-" _kiss_ "-not-" _kiss_ "-giving-" _kiss_ "-up!"

He smirks against her lips, elatedness spreading throughout his body and it feels like they're on _fire._

"Good, because neither am I."

_(Victory.)_


	12. kiss, touch & love: LilyScorpius

**a/n: dedicated to **PrincessPearl **& **Ninja Potter **because they ship this pairing ;)

* * *

**

**pairing: **ScorpiusLily  
**words: **910

**kiss, touch, and love  
**i know you get me,  
so i let my walls come down, down  
_/teenage dream, katy perry/  
_;;

* * *

These sort of things always end in disaster.

(Don't they?)

* * *

_kiss, touch, love._

They start seeing each other in the middle of summer—when his relationship with Rose is 'off' again and she's _bored_, so what else is there to do? He's at her and Al and James' house because he always—_alwaysalwaysalways_—stays there for the hols, and _god, _it's sweltering hot and there's _nothing_ to do, _okay?_

"Kiss me." She is ever the blunt one, and simply watches as his face morphs from confused to surprised to amused.

"Why would I do that?" His mouth is turned up at the corners.

_bat those pretty grass-green eyes and he's gone._

"Because I want you to."

And he does.

_feather-light peck on the cheek._

(And then, and then, _and then_, that's when it all goes spiraling out of control.)

* * *

They meet up often, in her bloody _house_, even, and when the holidays are over they begin to meet up at school. Rose doesn't know, nor will she ever know, because Scorpius won't tell her and Lily's too _oh, I don't feel like it_, but personally, he just thinks she's scared.

It's been a couple of months and Rose is too oblivious and they're sneaking around right under her _nose_, for Merlin's sake.

"Hullo, Rose! I've got to speak with Scorpius." She begins tugging on his arm and he laughs good naturedly, turning to face her- _and he winks_. Rose looks bewildered.

_ponder briefly what she would do if she knew._

"What for? I was planning on spending the day with my boyfriend, Lily." Lily grins and gives her her very best puppy dog eyes, and she gives in. "Fine, fine, but ten minutes only, kid. I'm counting!"

Lily blows her a kiss—she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway—and guilt is still on the back of her mind as she grabs Scorpius' hand and they leave.

_run, run, run, baby boy. run, run, run, baby girl._

They start laughing once they get there, _Filch's_ closet, but they know he won't be here because it's his break, and they pant and wheeze and stand there till the laughs subside.

"Good one, Potty."

She sticks her tongue out at the nickname and slaps his arm lightly.

_ hearts beat faster._

"Whatever, Malfoy, let's get this over with." She winks, pulls on his tie, and they tumble into the closet.

_kiss.

* * *

_

They get caught.

* * *

"_What_ is going on here? Bloody kids these days, always trying to sneak off…" Filch wheezes, squinting his beady eyes at them until the guiltiness is rolling off of them in waves and pooling at their feet. "Say, aren't you the Potter girl? And…and…the Malfoy boy?"

_thump. thump. thump._

They wait, half-naked but too afraid to actually say anything.

_thumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

"Aren't you?"

_repeat question_.

"Yes."

_whisper._

They get dragged off to their respectable Common Rooms—Gryffindor, Slytherin—and then they lie in bed, ignoring their roommates' questions and pretending to fall asleep.

_lie awake. drown in your shame, boy and girl.

* * *

_

The next morning is a rough one. She prepares herself.

* * *

_take a deep breath, close your eyes._

She's at the Gryffindor Common Room in minutes. He's not there.

_heartbeat. heartbeat. heartbeat._

"Lily!" Rose calls her over.

_weak grin._

"What's the matter, Rose?" She notices the distressed look on her cousin's face and begins to panic.

_breathe._

"Well, I heard a rumor that, um—"

"Rose!" His voice is calling from across the Common Room and Lily lets out a sigh that she hadn't known she'd been holding. Rose's face looks even more troubled. When he is in close proximity to them, his arm accidentally brushing hers, Rose begins to speak.

She takes a deep breath and—

_beatbeatbeat._

"Are you seeing each other behind my back?" She doesn't even sound angry, no, just…just, disappointed and Lily feels that crushing guilt and Scorpius is frozen in his spot and Rose is the only calm one.

_fumble._

She decides to come up with an excuse instead of telling the truth, the whole truth and only the truth, because Slytherins are better at lying.

"I—it was just-" She finds she can't speak and a lump forms in her throat.

"It was just for fun." Scorpius cuts in, giving her his most winning _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it, I regret it_ smile, but Rose can see right through it. She shakes her head and thinks for a moment.

_silence._

"Obviously, we're broken up now, Scorpius," She says as calmly as possible without her voice shaking, no, not at all. "Just—just- why didn't you _tell_ me?"

That's what she wants to know. _That's all she wants to know_.

_heart stops._

They are bewildered and his hand grasps hers without any hesitation. Lily stares at their hands, the floor, anything but her cousin, _anything but her cousin_.

Rose looks at this gesture, the hands, pondering for a moment, before sighing. The fire in her eyes dies out and her eyebrows crease. She gives them both a sad smile, _dull, dull, dull_, swallows her pride, and walks away with her head held high.

_groan._

"Well, that went horribly." He sounds oddly chipper when he looks at her and her eyes hit the ceiling. His arms wrap around her waist. _sigh._

"_Obviously_."

But then he kisses her and though they're going to be the scandal of the year—who gives a fuck? This is good enough for her.

* * *

_kiss. touch. love._


	13. took her heart: RoxanneScorpius

**a/n: for **_Mystii_**'s ****Pairing Requests****. ** **prompts: golden, trench, spiral & cave.

* * *

**

**pairing: **RoxanneScorpius  
**words: **3,000

**to[ok] her heart  
**you are the best thing that's ever been mine  
_/mine, taylor swift/_

;;

* * *

He's the shine to her sun, but no, he's more of a rain cloud, isn't he?

* * *

i.

Albus drags him into their house one day, James and Lily trailing behind him, chattering incessantly, broad smiles on their faces.

Fred glares at him immediately, recognizing the white-blonde hair akin to _Malfoy_ and he's always been a bit prejudiced, but who cares, anyway? He's a Malfoy and _yeah_, Uncle Harry's taught them not to discriminate, not to hold grudges, but how can they help it?

She simply stands there behind her twin, face completely blank, devoid of any emotion, but _oh_, he's so prettypretty, so sparkle-_dazzle-_glitter, she can't help but feel _special_ when he looks at her with those eyes, staring into her very soul.

(But, like, whatever, right?)

"Scorpius Malfoy." He looks rather nervous, she notes, and she flicks her dark hair back and steps up, sticking out a hand and mischievousness lighting up her dark eyes.

"Call me Roxanne."

He shakes her hand somewhat reluctantly and she notices his hands are slightly clammy, and before he can say anything else, she dances away to her bedroom, laughing, leaving the three uncomfortable boys together, one stunned, one irritated, and one confused.

Because really, she's got him in her iron-grip _already._

ii.

He can't stop thinking about her, girl-who-shines, her silky_silky_ chocolate skin and dark red tresses, a contradiction in it of itself, he thinks. She is complexity, and he is simplicity, and they really couldn't be any more different.

She comes up to him one day while he's in his own little secluded corner, down near the dungeons, all Gryffindor pride and smiling like the sun because frankly, that's all she's ever known to do.

He barely inclines his head when she sits next to him, curls draped lightly on his shoulder, both their backs pressed to the wall and _oh_, they're much too close for his liking. Her arm brushes his and suddenly his arm is covered in gooseflesh, _embarrassedly enough._ He can't look at her because he's afraid if he does, he'll just dig himself deeper.

He's meant to be with Rose or Lily or Albus, they're the _obvious_ choices, the ones people expect him to pick, but he doesn't need a fire-girl and Lily is meant to be with Teddy, and he's not homosexual, so who's he supposed to choose now?

"Scorpius," She says his name, _just his name_ and nothing else, brushes her fingers over the fading gooseflesh, watching amusedly like she has a secret he doesn't know about. (And he thinks maybe he can be with _her, _sunshine-daisies-girl.)

"Scorpius," She mumbles it this time, tasting his name on her tongue and slowly, all too slowly, he turns his head to face her.

But she's gone, her hair swinging around the next corner and the only thing that remains is the smell of citrus lingering in the air and a lost button lying on the floor, scarlet and gold and _ohso_ Gryffindor.

He holds the button in his hand, stares at it for a moment, and then he slips it into his pocket.

iii.

He seeks her out the next morning at breakfast, (his life is slowly spiraling out of control, _since when does he seek out a Weasley_?) eyes roaming the Gryffindor table and he spots her, surrounded by her friends and her family, and he notices when she moves, they move as well, like they've some gravitational _pull _toward her, orbiting her like she's their sun, their light.

He walks over to their table, hearing the whispers as he passes and he comes up behind her, friends giggling around her, pointing at him, but she simply turns around, beaming. He attempts a smile, his throat has just closed up, and he fingers the button in his pocket, wondering why the _hell_ he wants to return this insignificant button to her, _she probably won't care anyway._

"So, uh, Weasley- I mean, Roxanne, I, um, wanted to give this back to you." The back of his neck suddenly feels hot, and his cheeks are burning with humiliation and shame. Her friends giggle again and he holds his hand out awkwardly, palm up, the button's colors contrasting his pale skin. She shushes them and turns back to Scorpius, still beaming, stretching her arm out and plucking the button out of his hand.

His hand drops to his side and he stands there, unsure of what to do now.

"Thanks, Scorp!" She sends him another heart-stopping, breath-catching smile and turns back to her friends, already prattling on as if nothing had happened. He stands there and rubs the back of his neck for a moment, then starts to go back to his table.

He can't help but look back.

iv.

"Scorpius, do you have a girlfriend?" One day she comes up to him, asks him in all seriousness, because she seems to be in one of her _moods_, and he knows this because he's been watching her for awhile now, trying to figure out what goes on in the recesses of that complex mind of hers. Maybe she is just a simple girl with a simple mind and a pretty face.

He shakes his head dumbly as she steps up to him, a trace of a smile somewhere, _somewhere_ on her face, tugging at the corners of her lips. She leans in and he can feel her breath on his face, hazy eyes gleaming.

"Good. So I won't feel guilty if I do _this._"

She presses her lips to his, and his whole theory flies out the window as her arms are flung over his shoulders and his hands are gripping her hips. They are moving together in a way they can't even _imagine, _until she gasps against his lips and pulls away, slipping out from under his grip somehow and he stares at her, incredulous. She takes three steps backward, shock written all over face, regret painted on her swollen lips.

"That was just a dare, that's it," She assures him, looking so _remorseful_ and before he can open his mouth to say anything, she is tripping over her feet to get away from him, red hair fanning out behind her.

He watches her go, an ache in his chest because he's searched too far in the cave that is her heart, and now he can't find his way out, lost in chocolate-skin-red-lashes-twinkling-eyes, _he's already too far gone._

v.

"You have to talk to me someday, you know," He whispers in her ear, bending down next to her and her pile of books in the library, wondering vaguely when he got so confident. She jumps in surprise, letting out a cry and her elbow comes up, smacking him square in the nose and eliciting a groan from him.

"Weas—Roxanne, I know you were trying to avoid me, but hitting me in the nose with your elbow is taking it a little far, don't you think?" He tries to remain cool and calm and collected as he clutches his bleeding nose, but _oh,_ she's in such close proximity, he can feel the warmth radiating off her being.

"I'm sorry!" She tries to keep her face straight, mouth poker-thin, but she can't help it and she bursts into laughter. A giggle escapes her lips and he grimaces at her, trying to stop the excessive bleeding. She covers her lips with her hand, stifling the laughter, but her eyes are dancing merrily and he's glad he's gotten a smile from her.

"Heal it for me, yeah?"

She nods, still trying _sososo_ hard not to laugh, and pulls her wand out of her back pocket and points it directly at his nose.

"_Episkey,_" His nose instantly feels better and he wipes the last few drops of blood off, scarlet staining his gray shirt sleeve.

"Thanks." He manages a small smile, just digging himself deeper into the trench that he'll eventually never get out of.

"No problem," She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, stuffing her wand back into her pocket and glancing at him, biting her lip. She takes one courageous step toward him, peering through her lashes at him and he almost melts right there.

"What- what are you doing?" He stutters, his heart beating about a thousand times faster and he feels her suck in a breath.

She tilts her head back and beams.

"It isn't a dare this time," And before he can respond with a stammer of 'what?' her lips are on hers and it's awkward and clumsy, her tongue is tracing the outline of his lips and he grabs hold of her arms and pushes her back.

He pants as he watches her, eyes wide with astonishment and she stares right back, making him see stars in his eyes, she looks at him with such honestyand sincerity and authenticity it's practically impossible. Her hair is more tousled than usual and her eyes are bright with lust, but he can see nothing else under her perplexing exterior.

"We can't, we can't. I'm- I'm supposed to be with Rose or Lily and-" He chokes on his words, her butterfly kisses sending him into another bout of dizzying confusion. "-and you're, you're supposed to be with someone _else_."

She demands with the air of a regal queen, "Who, exactly?" looking at him with the oddest expression on her face, calmly, like she's not embarrassed in the slightest. He's incapable of forming any words, but the way she looks at him—it's cliché, really—but it's like she's looking _straight into his soul_.

He shakes his head mutely, looking at anywhere but her, gazing instead at a spider crawling slowly down the bookcase, spinning its web and crawling closer and closer to her pile of books.

She mutters something irritably and rolls her eyes, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and stalking out and he notices her sneakers are untied and her tights are bunched up and her skirt is wrinkled.

He turns away before he notices anything else.

vi.

That is the last time he sees her before she leaves Hogwarts, and he spends ample time missing her and longing for her and wishing he had _apologized_ to her.

The next time he _does_ see her is at a family reunion during the summer (Al's invited him). He walks into the house, still laughing at his friend for tripping over a Muggle garden gnome, and then he turns his head and his heart beats that much quicker.

She's wearing a pair of cargo shorts- brown- and a faded tan Beatles tee shirt, her arms crossed over her chest. The worn Chuck Taylors on her feet stop their tapping as she looks up from her Muggle contraption, some sort of music device, smiling all the more brightly.

"Scorpius!" She darts over and wraps him in a one-armed hug, her limb dangling over his shoulder and it appears as if she isn't mad anymore, or maybe she's just _forgotten._ "Well, now that Scorpius' here—" Al glares at her pointedly. "I mean, now that Scorpius _and Albus_- my dear cousin who used to love playing with dolls, but you know, that's another story—" Al turns a bright red and scurries away to Louis to avoid any more embarrassment, "—we can have our annual Weasley-Potter war!"

Scorpius lets out a sigh of relief and forces out a laugh when she lets go of him because if she hadn't, he probably would've kissed her right there, _god damn it. _He watches as hues of red, orange and even blonde- that's Victoire and Lucy, he'll bet- rush past him and out the back door and he's left standing, not sure what to do.

"Go on, Scorpius," Hermione Granger-Weasley says kindly to him and he nods gratefully, running after the rest of them.

He finds himself in a backyard, facing a mass of Weasleys- and Potters, all laughing playfully and exchanging stories of Hogwarts and their jobs and Merlin knows what else. He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot until Victoire Weasley speaks up, a dazzling smile painted prettily on her face.

"Obviously, it's time for the annual Weasley-Potter war!" She pauses and waits for cheers to subside, and Roxanne, _she_, is the last to stop. "You all know the rules, right?" They nod impatiently and Scorpius raises his hand timidly.

"Er, I don't." Roxanne turns to face him and he struggles not to look at her, keeping his eyes trained on the Veela-girl in front of him.

Victoire flashes him another breathtaking smile, turning the Veela charm on _highhighhigh_, but somehow, he's not affected.

"The Weasley-Potter war is when we fight against one another on teams. Not with fists, of course," she adds on quickly when she sees the incredulous look on his face. "The ones of age are allowed to shoot spells, obviously nothing deadly, but the younger ones are allowed to use anything we've prepared in this yard." She gestures grandly to the buckets of water balloons, paintballs, and every other Muggle thing imaginable. "Everyone is of age except Lily and Hugo."

He nods, overwhelmed, but Roxanne gives him a reassuring smile and he feels better- kind of.

"I'm team captain, naturally," Victoire says this with an air of superiority because she's _Victoire_ _Weasley _and that's how she normally speaks. "Who wants to be the other captain?"

James steps up, smirking and Scorpius stands there, scratching the nape of his neck and looking oddly out-of-place in this throng of Weasleys.

"Dominique." Victoire's voice rings in the sweltering hot air and Scorpius barely notices, preferring to watch Roxanne tap her foot impatiently instead.

"Albus," James counters Victoire, shooting her a playful smile and she rolls her eyes.

Slowly, the heap of Weasleys begins to subside and Roxanne is on Victoire's team and all that's left is him, Hugo, Lily and Louis, embarrassingly enough.

James scrutinizes the four for a moment, and he opens his mouth, and Scorpius _knows_ it's not going to be him, when—

"Scorpius."

He raises his aristocratic eyebrows amusedly and strides over to James' team, all the while watching Roxanne's reaction.

"Oh, _come on_!" She lets out a groan, he's satisfied to hear, and Victoire picks Louis and James picks Lily and Hugo is left to Vic's team—and then the game begins.

vii.

A smile curves her lips as she turns to shoot James with a spell—_Tarantallegra_—and her cousin's legs start moving in an odd sort of jig, and all Scorpius can do is watch her laugh with her head thrown back, his insides melting and his heart beating much too fast.

Then Lily comes up behind her, clutching a paintball gun and a mischievous glint in her eyes, and Scorpius feels a sense of alarm wash over him though he knows she's not in any danger.

"Roxanne, _behind you_!" He can't help but yell and she whips around with her wand raised, _Expelliarmus_ bursting from her lips and Lily's paintball gun lands with a thud, meters away.

Lily groans, running a hand through her hair and glaring at Scorpius and Teddy Lupin is watching the whole scene with his eyes trained only on Lily. James yells at Scorpius ("You prat, she could've gotten her!") in his tangle of dancing feet, and Scorpius shrugs and Roxanne winks with _that look_ on her face that confuses him ohso much.

He stands there, bewildered, for a moment, until she suddenly turns to him, mouths "Sorry", and before he can even react, before he can get out of his trance, she's shouted "Impedimenta!" and everything's suddenly in slow motion.

He lets out a string of profanities before landing on the ground, slowly, all the while watching Roxanne's face—she gives him an apologetic shrug and runs off, grinning and laughing like the sunshine-girl she is. (He's never seen anything more beautiful.

viii.

The game is soon over (her team's won) and everyone's in the house, sipping cool glasses of lemonade whilst chatting among themselves, and somehow, _somehow_, he's got a seat right across from her.

"'Lo, Scorpius!" She says brightly, the daisy smile never fading from her lips, "Good game."

He grins back at her. "Yeah. Yeah, good game."

She takes another sip of her lemonade and the droplets of water run down the frosted glass and into the crevice of her hand, and god, he's in dark skin and prettypretty red tresses and daisy, sunshine smiles.

"Roxanne- do you like me?" He blurts out and _yeah_, he's throwing it all out there, but what else can he do?

"Well yeah, I guess, you're a wonderful person and—" She's bewildered as he cuts in, not even bothering to keep his voice low.

"No- do you _like_ me?" He asks loudly and heads turn. "_Like me_, like me?"

She fumbles with the glass in her hand, the sunshine smile melting into confusion and—and hurt, and _why are you making me do this_? "I, uh-_what?_"

"Do you like me?" He repeats, starting to get impatient and he clasps her hand in his, his other hand brushing away a stray red curl—

She's drowning. "Yes. I do."

He takes a breath, lets go of all his inhibitions, gives in to the desires, stands up and takes her in his arms, kissing her so fiercely, and maybe sunshine and rain-cloud go together, yeah?

They are complexity and simplicity intertwined, sunshine and rain cloud and _maybe, maybe, maybe_ it seems a bit like a sin, but it's _magic._ A colorful mess of bright yellow and dark chocolate brown and silvery grey and platinum blonde, and they explode with the intensity of fireworks, showering them all in rays of sun, love, and beauty. Yes, he is the sun to her shine, and _no_, _no,_ he's not the rain cloud of desolation and misery because she makes his world that much brighter.

After all, they're Scorpius and Roxanne, and maybe, maybe they work together.

* * *

_(Love is complicated, they know.)_


	14. self destruction: AlbusRina

**a/n: my first Albus one, yay! people who usually review every chapter: guys, where are you? :(**

* * *

**pairing: **AlbusRina  
**words: **1,022

**self-destruction**  
well, open up your mind and see like me  
open up your plans and then you're free_  
/i'm yours, jason mraz/_  
;;

* * *

She takes one brave step and then she falls, tumbling into a different reality, and it hurts way more than it helps, really.

* * *

Maybe it's because she's both his brother's girlfriend and his cousin's lover, but he can't help feeling attracted to this beautiful black hole of self destruction and shallowness and _sex._

After every meal she hurries off to the bathroom and no one knows of this little 'problem' of hers, and it's been _three goddamned years _already so why should they notice now, especially in her final year?

But James doesn't see his girlfriend, the one with the skinny arms and thin legs and too flat stomach, and he doesn't notice she looks almost sickly because he's too busy chasing after Louis' girlfriend—

Only Albus sees, really, and when she stands up, a "'Scuse me for a moment" already forming on her lips, he stands up suddenly, leg colliding painfully against the underside of the table- but he'll deal with that later- he needs to get to her, now. She gives him a strange look, her cornflower blue eyes staring straight at him.

No one notices.

His family—the Weasleys and the Potters—are actually her close friends, and they accept her and her (slight) shallowness and the fact that she's maybe not the brightest (talking about grades, of course), and she's a bit of a slut—they accept her.

The only thing is, they've no idea what's going on with her, and James' got an inkling that she's cheating on him (but he doesn't care much anyway, just pretends he does) and Fred may just be falling head-over-heels for her—

And Albus is still the only one who knows about…that.

She doesn't know he knows, of course- if she did, she'd probably explode into fireworks of more self-destruction and desperation and (pretended) cool for him not to tell anyone- she's brave, but not for herself, no, darling, never for herself.

"Rina," he says quietly, placing a hand on her skinny arm as her hand pushes gingerly on the bathroom door. She twists around and is surprised to see his figure looming over hers, looking oddly threatening in this light.

"Al." She greets, a small smile (genuinely) lighting up her narrow face, and her eyes shimmer like moonlight. "What's up?"

He stares at her, expressionless. "What're you doing to yourself, Rina?"

Her smile wavers for a bit and he hopes she'll go back with him—back to the Great Hall—but then it drops completely and there's this beaten, worn look on her face. (Suddenly, she's looking too old for a seventeen year old who used to be all Gryffindor brave and every shade of courage there is.)

He continues. "You're in Gryffindor. You're supposed to be _bold_, _valiant_, _brave_." If Al were Fred or James, he'd probably have cracked a joke or two by now, but he's Albus and he's the indifferent, calculating one who always observes—frankly, she's more comfortable around the other two.

She's a tattered young girl with nothing to spare, a girl who's slowly spiraling out of control and becoming a _catastrophe._ Because she was—_is_ (supposed to be) the well-known, sex god_dess_ Gryffindor who's close to the Weasleys, the one who doesn't look for relationships- only sex- and she's simple, really.

"I _am_ brave," she protests (half-heartedly) and she leans against the doorway of the bathroom, looking up at him with desperate eyes. "I _am_."

"Then what're you doing to yourself? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I'm not doing anything to myself, Al, I'm _fine_." Her voice cracks at the last word but she smiles all the same.

A flash of _something_ goes through his emerald eyes- so same, yet so different from his father's- these don't show any emotion- and she thinks she sees anger (maybe).

"Rina…" he warns.

"Albus…" she teases right back, but his gaze is unwavering and she drops the fake cheerfulness. "I dunno, alright? I was just—_sick_ of it. My grandparents always call me fat and stupid and ugly, and doing this is the only thing I can do to fix myself, and—and—it just gets to me sometimes."

She shrugs offhandedly like this isn't a big deal- but then again, she's always been the girl who's brave for other people without reserving any for herself. (Or maybe she's just run out.) He sighs wearily and pulls a pack of Muggle cigarettes from his pocket. He offers her one and she declines, shaking her head because she just doesn't feel like it at the moment, and can he just go, _please_?

He holds it between two fingers, placing it in his mouth and lighting it. "You haven't answered the question, Rina." She scowls a bit and juts a hip out, leaning on a foot and placing a hand on said hip.

"What in the name of Merlin do you mean, Al? I've just answered it." And yes, Albus and her aren't really that close, but—

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

(Some Gryffindor bravery sparks up, _ignites_ inside of her.)

"Because skinny girls are the pretty ones! Because guys want me because I'm _thin!_ Because all _society_ accepts are the underweight ones, Al!" She cries out, wringing her hands and she rarely ever gets mad at her (only) friends, but she just—doesn't _know_ anymore.

All he does is blow an 'O' of smoke into the air and she watches it fade without a trace.

"Because I'm the superficial, insecure Gryffindor who everyone supposedly _likes_ because of how I dress, and talk, and look, and because of _you guys_. _That's_ why."

He doesn't say anything; just blows another puff of smoke, clouding around her features; then, _his_ face is suddenly looming into view and he's suddenly clear (_everything_'s suddenly clear) against the shades and hues of gray.

And he's leaning down to press his lips to her thin ones, and there's no spark, no fire, no magic, but—

* * *

(It's a short, sweet kiss that means literally nothing—just his Albus Potter way of reassuring her—but it's a kiss she remembers, all the same.)


	15. some kind of love: LouisAlysha

**a/n: so, my OCs are horrible, and they're just—gah, **_**horrible**_**, and so yesterday, i made a character sheet for all three of them. hopefully, they're developed a bit better now.  
dedicated to **_Amy is rockin_ **and **_AccioHope_ **cause they love Louis and they're my pairing triplets. (even though GaleKatniss is totally my ship :3 just saying.)**

* * *

**pairing: **LouisAlysha**  
words: **2,011

**some kind of love  
**love hurts whether it's right or wrong  
i can't stop 'cause i'm having too much fun  
_/what the hell, avril lavigne/__  
_;;

* * *

ten facts about alysha zabini

**number one:** she hates James and Lily Luna and then Al, _by default_.

She's always hated them, she has. It's a bit disconcerting, really, to find that your girlfriend- (oh, but we'll get to _that_ later)- hates your cousins. Your _favorite_ cousins, to be exact.

Just peachy, really.

"God, they're annoying." She lets out an exasperated sigh and watches them, where they are just bursting with energy and glittering bright like the stars with those perfect (performed) laughs and happy (smug) looks. She folds her arms over her chest.

"'Scuse me, those are my cousins you're talking about." He cuts in smoothly, arching a blonde eyebrow that could rival Malfoy's and she rolls her eyes.

"That's great. Who are you? I can never keep track of you all." She turns to glower at Lily and James- oh yeah, and Albus, and then scoffs. "Merlin, they love attention."

"They do, don't they? One always trying to outshine the other." He smiles lazily. "Louis Weasley."

"Oh, _you're_ the dishy one? Hm," she pauses, looking him up and down, "thought you'd look better than _that_, the way my mates were going on about you." She smirks; he gives her an incredulous look.

"You don't think I'm good-looking?" He realizes how conceited the words sound once they leave his mouth and for some reason, he can't seem to stop them. "Odd."

It's her turn to look surprised, but the look quickly melts to disappointment. "You're just like those two, aren't you?" She sighs, coal eyes frustrated and before he can say another word, she leaves, plait swinging out behind her.

He leans against an armchair and memorizes her features.

* * *

**number two: **she's a hypocrite.

She's in the center of the room with Dominique and Lucy, glowing with her haughty smiles and discreet winks and he thinks _she's a hypocrite_. (Because hadn't she _just_ said a week ago that she _hatedhatedhated_ attention-seekers?) Her plait is thrown over one shoulder and her eyes are smoldering, burning with the intense heat that _coal_ is famous for. He watches her and she sees him.

"Weasley!" Four redheads turn to her. "_Louis_ Weasley." He stands up, eyebrows furrowed and face sporting a frown but he walks toward her anyway. Her eyes are burning holes in him and it's like she _sees_ him, the boy who secretly plays the piano but comes off as debonair and calm and cool.

He yawns. "Yes, Alysha?" He pronounces it _ah-LEESH-a._ She scowls.

"It's A-_lie_-sha, as you very well know." She rolls her burning eyes at him and he simply waves it off.

"Wonderful." He nods. "I thought you hated attention seekers?"

She frowns. "I do. What's your point?"

"Hm." He pauses, examining his nail. "Looks like you're a bit of a hypocrite, Zab."

He walks away.

(She lets out a 'hmmph'. He smiles in satisfaction.)

* * *

**number three: **she has a good taste in music.

She's in class, twirling her wand in her fingers and a jaded look on her prettypretty face. She lets out a sigh and taps her foot on the floor. The sound is heard by Louis and he glances over at her, resting his chin on his hand. (Their skin is so close, his is so pale in contrast to hers and _Lord_, _so close._)

The tapping continues.

Professor Binns—probably the most mundane teacher in the history of Hogwarts—drones on, his voice buzzing gently in his ear and fading into the background as the tapping grows louder.

She sets her wand on the table and chews at her nails absentmindedly, watching Professor Binns float about the classroom. The tapping becomes a rhythm and Louis recognizes the song- one of his all-time favorites- _Basilisk_ _Fangs—_his lips quirk up into a smile.

He mouths the lyrics, tapping out the same rhythm with his fingers; she looks at him.

And that's the first smile he gets from her.

* * *

**number four: **she plays the piano.

He strolls along the Seventh Floor corridor, _I wish I had a place to think, I wish I had a place to relax_, a door appears. He glances around before turning the handle and stepping in.

There's music. Piano, is it? The soft notes are coming from the middle of the room, where a grand chestnut piano stands and a girl is behind it, a girl with dark hair and dark eyes and dark skin—it's the _girl_, that Slytherin girl- the one with good taste in music and _Lord, _she plays the piano?

A river of notes flow from her hands, blurring as she plays faster and the melody becomes tangled and messy and sloppy—the melody is no longer pretty_pretty_, only a twisted mess—

She lets out a cry of frustration, bringing her hands down, _hard_, on the black and white keys.

"Frustrated?" He sits down on the bench next to her with a dry smile on his face- she rolls her eyes and starts to push him away. "Oi, what are you _doing_, woman?"

"Getting you off _my_ seat." She plants her hands firmly on his arm and pushes, but he barely moves a centimeter. "What are you doing here, anyway, Weasley?" She glares at him, giving up and placing her arms at her sides. "Are you stalking me?"

"Zabini, I have better things to do." He slings an arm over her shoulder. She shrugs it off. "I was just looking for a place to relax."

"Okay, but I was here _first_, so go _away_ so I can practice."

"Speaking of piano, I didn't know you played it." She blows a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes.

She defends herself. "Well, I do—sort of. And I rather like it, so shut up."

"I never said it was a _bad_ thing. In fact, I think you're _wonderful_ for playing piano, since I do too." He proceeds to play the most complicated song he knows, fingers _flyingflyingflying_ over the keys and it's so _beautiful _she can't help but grin.

(He teaches her how to play it.)

* * *

**number five: **she speaks fluent Italian.

"_Questo é stupid_o." She groans and tugs on her plait. "Non posso fare questo."

He stares blankly at her. "Well, the next note's G, and…"

She lets out a long breath. "I speak Italian. My dad's part-Italian; he made me learn it."

"Oh, that's interesting."

"It's really not, but thanks for trying."

He shrugs, smiles at her and she shoots a sarcastic one back.

"Sei un somara, Weasley."

"I hope that was a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"I thought so." He makes a face at her, guides her hands back to the keys and they continue playing.

* * *

**number six: **she is attracted to Scorpius Malfoy.

They are lounging comfortably in armchairs next to the chestnut piano, legs crossed and exchanging playful words of banter. They're a strange picture, that dark Slytherin who's _ohso_sarcastic, and he's the pale Gryffindor who's calm-cool-collected, and they're—dare I say it?—_friends._

"Okay, your turn, tell me something no one knows about you." She prompts him, head resting comfortably in her hands, and he thinks for a moment.

"I…watch the Muggle telly." She laughs; he shrugs. "The programs actually very interesting. Your turn."

"I…am attracted to Scorpius Malfoy." She admits, shrugging with the air of _oh, I don't care what you think_, but she does.

He snorts. "You're really attracted to him? Why?"

"I dunno, he's got the blonde hair and the grey eyes, something that every girl loves." She shrugs again.

"I thought it was blonde hair and _blue_ eyes?" He raises an eyebrow. "Which _I_ have, coincidentally enough?"

She rolls her eyes. "Weasley- no offense, I'll never like you that way. You're too- too—"

"Too?"

"Too— like _them_, I s'pose." She grins but he does not.

"Like who?" He's got a suspicion at whom she's talking about, but he wants to hear her say it. _Needs _for her to say it.

"Like your cousins, you twat. You know how I feel about James and Albus…and Lily." She rolls her eyes and says it so offhandedly, like they're not talking about _his cousins_ and are instead, discussing the weather.

He feels his heart sink.

* * *

**number seven: **she hates melodramatic people.

"L-Weasley, control those cousins of yours, _honestly._" Except he's not paying attention and he's staring at the flower lying on the palm of his hand, contemplating. "_Weas_-ley!"

"Yes, Zabini?" He looks up at her, a small smile on his pretty lips; she sighs.

"Control those Potters, _Louis_." She rolls her eyes, pinching him in the arm and he rubs the spot, feigned hurt on his face.

"What'd they do this time?" He says teasingly, and she grimaces.

"They're so goddamned _overdramatic_. This morning, Lily was complaining about how she _needs_ _bacon_ or something, because they ran out," she says disgustedly, "they're so _fucking_ melodramatic."

Louis sighs and tugs on her plait playfully. "They are, and so are you."

She stares at him in disbelief (everyone's usually too scared of her to try to be _this_ blunt) and grunts. "Ex_cuse_ me? Are you telling me I'm one of _them_?"

He backtracks- "Never—" then decides he doesn't need to. "You are, Zabini."

She glares at him and, with a huff of annoyance, walks away, plait swinging behind her (as self-righteous as can be.)

* * *

**number eight: **she doesn't believe in romance.

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Louis grins, slinging an arm over her shoulder. She shrugs it off but smiles (a bit) all the same.

"What's with the dramatic entrance, Juliet?" She cocks an eyebrow and he winks teasingly.

"I heard you hate romance." He gives her a look- a skeptical look like he doesn't believe her. She bristles.

"No, I don't _hate_ romance." He nods, satisfied; she continues.

"I don't believe in it."

* * *

**number nine: **she has never had sex.

"I've been hearing rumors lately." He sits down beside her, watching as she pores over her History of Magic textbook, a stray curl falling into her eyes. She brushes it away impatiently and looks up at him.

"Oh? Rumors about?"

His expression is a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Heard you and Davies were, ahem, _getting it on_ in a broom cupboard."

She turns back to her book. "I'm studying."

Louis looks surprised. "You _did!_"

"I _didn't_." She protests, and he looks at her, a disbelieving expression that is worn plainly on his face.

"You _did._" He isn't sure whether to be sad, or mad, or just _disappointed_.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't."

"You _did!_"

"For the last time, Louis Weasley, I _did not!_" She erupts, book falling from her lap as she stands up in an outbreak of aggravation and frustration; he simply sits there. "I have never, ever, _ever_ had sex, and I don't plan on doing it until I get married!"

She sits down again, breathing heavily. He blinks.

"Oh." (She swears she sees a hint of a smile on his face.)

* * *

**number ten: **she may or may not be in love with Louis Weasley.

"Go to the ball with me?" He asks her, plain as day, when they're sitting together in the Room of Requirement, right next to the piano, and a skeptical look is on her face.

"I wasn't planning on going to the ball, Louis." She's taken to calling him by his first name (he's pleased) and he contemplates for a moment.

"Go to the ball with me…and then after, I'll help you study." He offers, a mixture of hope and smoldering-part-Veela; she blows hair out of her eyes again.

"Is Louis Weasley really asking me out right now?" She asks to herself, as she fingers the necklace around her neck, chuckling softly under her breath. He cracks a lopsided grin.

Then—

"Fine."

And then he jumps and he pulls her into a bone-crushing hug that forms the butterflies in her stomach, and she thinks she feels her heart flutter (maybe, maybe, maybe) and he thinks he's finally, finally got the girl.

(See? It _is_ blue eyes and blonde hair after all.)


	16. forest fire: LysanderLily

**a/n: for **_sky-azure raindrops_ **for the prompts: red stilettos and forget-me-nots. (didn't really use forget-me-nots, sorry!)**

* * *

**pairing: **LilyLysander  
**words: **1,059

**forest-fire**  
it's wearing me thin, can i begin  
to wear you out?  
_/impossible, anberlin/  
_;;

* * *

"Red stilettos are for scarlet women." She first heard this when she was ten.

She swore to never wear them_._

Five years later and they're suddenly a signature part of Lily Luna Potter.

They may be just right, you know, the way he's the _playboy_ and she's the _s-s-slut_, and they match, sort of—if you turn your head and squint just a little bit.

They blind people with their constant _you glow, I glow brighter_ competition, but they're _pretty_, so no one cares much. Their constant friends-then-not-friends, and friends again and the constant cycle is quite irritating at times.

Maybe if they just stop and _see where they land_, it'll work better, but no, the naiveté and ignorance of the two never cease.

So they settle for less, they settle for something called s-e-x—and it's common these days, with these people and these children who grow up too fast. And together, they shine brighter than the lights of Paris on a cool summer night, blending in with the brilliance of glittering stars. (They are, simply put, stunning.)

He calls her 'sunshine' because she makes him see sunspots, and she calls him 'prick' but that's 'cause he _is_ (well, to her, at least) and 'sex friends' is a term every guy would _kill_ to have, and boy, he's got it.

"Y'know, sunshine, ever since we started 'meeting up', I've been noticing a lot of things about you. Like how you drink only pumpkin juice for breakfast, and how you wear ripped stockings on purpose, and how you don't bother to tie your trainers when they come undone." He grins lazily, draping an arm over her shoulder and soaking up the sun, "I think it's called _love._"

"_I_ think it's called 'stalking'." She improvises quickly because Lily Potter does not deal with the word _love_, and what is he _doing_, they agreed for this to just be for fun, right? She lies down in the dewy grass, effectively moving his arm off of her bare shoulder. "You _are_ kidding, right?"

"Right," he grunts, lips pressing together in an effort not to say anything stupid. She sighs in relief and it almost breaks his heart the way she's so oblivious.

"So," she begins more cheerfully, "how's your day been? Snogged any good girls? Hear Molls is single." She sends him a wink that makes him want to just blurt it out right there, a romantic profession of love on a sunny spring day, and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to do it.

He pulls a blade of grass out and into the light, holding it tight between his fingertips and hoping it won't ever _slip_. (Is this a metaphor, or something?) She kicks her red stilettos off and they tumble into the waiting arms of the greengreen_green_ grass as she straightens the skirt of her white-dotted-scarlet sundress—looking more of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin.

"That's lovely for her," he says, flicking the blade of grass and watching as it lands, without a sound, into its surrounding family; she frowns and brushes the red fringe out of her eyes, her straight hair glinting in the sunlight—

"What's wrong with you? Don't you fancy Molly?" She frowns and a crease appears in her forehead, making her seem older than her sixteen-year-old years.

"No," he answers with one word, lying down next to her and intertwining his fingers with hers. She seems uncomfortable, but he pretends not to notice.

"Then who _do_ you fancy?" She asks, turning her head slightly to face him, but she's met with a shock of dark blonde—almost brown hair. "Lysander?"

"Sunshine, that's for me to know and you to find out." He removes his hand from hers, placing both his hands on the back of his head, and _oh Lord_, he's burning down faster than a forest fire; it's time to tell her, tell her, _tell her_.

She doesn't speak for a moment, probably pondering who his mystery crush is. "Is it one of my cousins?"

He pauses—god, should he tell her, or shouldn't he? "Uh—"

That's all she has to hear. "You _do_." And he's too tired of her constantly _assuming_, too tired of pretending _no_, he's _not_ in love with her, too tired of convincing himself she'll love her eventually.

He lets her bask in that moment of _I'm right_, _I'm right_, and waits (im)patiently for her to start teasing him.

And—she doesn't disappoint him. "So who is it? Lucy?" She smirks. "Because she's kind of lost in _Narnia _and she's more into dark-haired boys, anyway."

He shakes his head and doesn't speak.

"Roxy, then? She's the nice one of all of us, y'know." She waits for a reaction that will never come. "I don't think she'd suit you much, but if that's who you prefer…"

He shakes his head again.

"'Nikka?" The beginning of a frown is starting to form on her face. "She's—well, she moves on from guy to guy really quickly, and—"

"Is she not _good for me_, either?" He finally replies, biting back a retort that springs to the tip of his tongue, and he sits up.

"It _is_ Nikka!" Lily says triumphantly, sitting up as well, and the bright red, _straight, straight_ hair is again shining in the sun's rays—he's too tired of this.

"No, it's not," he begins bitterly, "It's y—"

He stops himself before he makes a _huge_ mistake, but she's prompting him with that raised-eyebrow expression on her face, tempting him with her hair and eyes and _she's the one that burns the forest down_.

"It's fucking you, Lily," he says disgustedly, standing up and brushing himself off—she stands as well.

She's _smiling_. She's goddamn _smiling_. "You're kidding, right, you big prick?"

And then she winks at him and his heart just _stops_—but not because she takes his breath away—because he's just…this is stupid—this whole sex thing was a bad, bad, _bad_ idea, and she's already burned him too much.

"No," and he doesn't know if he means _no, I'm not kidding _or _no, stop doing this—don't call me a prick_ and no, no, _no._

So he walks away, seeking out one of her cousins—Molly, Dominique, Roxanne Lucy—who _cares_?

_No one can heal the burns, baby boy._


	17. alien: LysanderRose

**a/n: this was really fun to write. here's Rose and her hectic thoughts (she's a bit crazier in this). sorry everyone- I promise one of the boys will have a first person soon! um, this was written at two in the morning, so I apologize for the randomness and crappiness, and stuff.**

* * *

**pairing: **LysanderRose  
**words: **1,336

**alien  
**'cause you can't deny  
you've blown my mind**  
**_/stereo love, edward maya & alicia/_  
;;

* * *

These situations I always seem to get myself into—I honestly don't know how this happened!

How in the name of Merlin's left testicle did I end up in a Muggle yoga class?

My fingers brush against the blue foam of the mat underneath me and I wait for the memories to come crashing back.

But they don't.

Hm. Odd. There seems to be a boy over there that looks _awfully_ like Lysand—wait! It _is_ Lysander! And that's—

Victoire? And there's Fred! And Molly, and Roxy, and Nikka!

…

There seems to be some sort of family gathering that I was not aware of.

But wait! Lysander's here! Aha! I've solved the mystery—it's not a family gathering, _case closed!_ Take _that_, Scorpius. I _told_ you I was good with mysteries. That'll teach you. (Yes, I am conscious of the fact that this is going on in my head. Hugo tells me I should go to a psychiatrist. I have no idea why; for I am clearly sane.)

…

Wait—so then, what the fuck happened? I mean, you know I'm being serious when I start cussing—I _never_ cuss. Scorpius calls me a goody-two-shoes. I have no clue why, because I'm a _total_ rebel.

...Which explains why I'm in a yoga class in the middle of a school day. With Lysander. And my cousins.

I glance at the yoga instructor, who appears to not have noticed a sudden increase in the number of his students. Hm, not a very observant bloke, as far as I can tell. Well, he looks a bit busy—snogging the lights out of a woman is sure to take up your time and distract you from the fact that seven more people have magically appeared in your yoga class.

Ah well. He still should've noticed. On the bright side, at least we don't have to pay!

I shrug and make my way over to where Lysander is. I glance at him and nearly erupt in laughter.

But I don't, because that's rude.

He has on these strange stretchy pants, though they only go up to mid-calf and—get this!—they're _pink._ A leopard print headband over his forehead and plain white wristbands adorn his—well, obviously, his wrists. And he has on this ridiculous green shirt and on _that_, a picture of a duck.

"I've always rather liked ducks," I say to him in an effort to keep from giggling. He gives me a strange look and then seems to realize his own discomfort.

I blink once.

He squirms around in his stretchy pants.

I blink twice.

He tugs at his shirt.

"So, how'd we get here?" he asks, breaking the silence. I scratch my nose and think of an extremely witty response.

"Magic!" I say to him, smiling widely. "Get it? Because we're wizards, and everything's _already_ magic, and…it was a good joke!"

He blinks at me and scratches the back of his neck. "Right. Well, then…" He begins to walk over to where the rest of my family is gathering, and doesn't spare a laugh at my hilarious joke.

I frown. Clearly, he has been neglected and deprived of good humor all his life. He doesn't know a good joke when he seems one. Frankly, I feel sorry for those sort of people. They lead rather sad lives.

I hurry after Lysander, who is about five steps away, so I take two giant leaps and end up right next to him.

"Do _you_ know how we got here, then?" I ask politely. I know the answer already—we were obviously abducted by alien doppelgangers of ourselves and forced into this torture chamber, which is in disguise as a yoga class, and we'll probably we forced to read some horrible Muggle book that contains sparkly vampires and werewolves with pedophilic tendencies—but I let him come to that conclusion himself.

After all, my explanation _is_ the most reasonable.

"No," he answers.

"Oh," I reply, keeping the conversation interesting.

We reach my cousins. They seem to be deep in conversation. Nikka's tugging on her cropped hair, Roxy's eyebrows are creased and she's staring intently at the instructor, Molly's smacking her lips in anticipation, Freddy's picking his nose, and Victoire seems to be dreaming of something—perhaps Narnia and Peter (she tends to confide in me.) I smile secretly at her.

"Anyone know what happened?"

"I remember a _bit_, but—"

"Not really sure."

"It's all kind of foggy for some reason."

I speak up with my brilliant theory.

"We were abducted by our doppelgangers, and they're planning to torture us here by forcing us to read about vampires who use body glitter and werewolves who fall in love with their former love's offspring," I state matter-of-factly. I'm sure they believe my theory is correct, from the looks on their faces.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Well then, now that we've gotten that cleared up, what say we actually do our yoga now?" I flash them all a smile before flouncing off to stretch on my nice foam mat. It _is_ rather nice, after all, and it would be _such_ a waste not to use it…

"Rose, where are you going?" Lysander demands, catching up to me in two long strides. I look at him, surprised.

"Well, obviously, I'm off to do yoga." I pointedly bend over and try to touch my toes to show him that I am, in fact, doing yoga.

…I can't reach my toes. I settle mid-thigh instead. Wow, this yoga stuff sure is easy!

He is still staring at me. "Um, Rose?"

"What?"

"You aren't going to try and figure out what really happened?" He pauses. "I got a cut, you know. Right here on my palm." He points to it.

"Would you like me to kiss it better?" I stand upright, disentangling my foot from the back of my head, and press my lips to his hand. "'Sides, I already told you my theory."

He stares at me. "I thought you were joking."

"That wasn't a joke! I only tell the funny ones, Lysander."

I sit down again to do some more yoga. Stretching my leg up, I somehow manage to get a foot behind my head and a leg sticking straight out, and both arms tangled with Lysander's limbs.

…

Huh. Not really sure how _he_ got there, considering he was standing above me about five seconds prior.

…

Well, this is awkward.

Nikka and Victoire and Fred and Molly and Roxy barrel toward us, expressions of comprehension on their faces. They must've figured out my theory was, in fact, correct.

"Rose, Lysander! We know what happened!" Roxy screams/whispers. One can never tell the difference. It's really surprising how the instructor hasn't noticed yet, I mean, we're practically breeding elephants over here.

Then, Roxy trips over a wand lying on the floor, and it sends her crashing into Lysander and I.

"Don't step th—" Lysander and Roxy both try to warn the rest of them, but they all come rushing toward us.

They slip too, and then we're a huge pile of Weasleys. (And one Scamander.)

"Hmph. What idiot would leave their wand lying carelessly on the ground?" I would cross my arms, but my foot is stuck somewhere between the back of my head and Nikka's arm, and my other foot is jammed between Victoire and Roxanne, and my arms are somewhere in this pile of bodies; I can't seem to locate exactly where they are. I crane my neck to look at the wand, ready to yell at whatever dunce placed it there.

...It's mine. I shift, feeling the glare of everyone on my, and especially Lysander, because his face is millimeters from mine, and every detail is suddenly in very sharp focus.

I kiss him.

I dunno, something about having your limbs entangled and pink pants and leopard print is attractive to me.

(And no—we never did find out what happened. Guess it was the alien doppelgangers after all.)


	18. swings: JamesEmma

**a/n: my characters change a lot; i'm sorry if you guys have a hard time following. as i said in chapter one, these are completely unrelated, so i change the houses or the personalities or the looks sometimes. /hinthint.**

* * *

**pairing: **JamesEmma  
**words: **1,928

**swings**  
i guess the change in my pocket wasn't even  
so i'm like  
forget you_  
/forget you, cee lo green/  
_;;

* * *

She is a mere seven-year-old and he's considered worldly and all-knowing simply because he is older. (Only by three years, okay?)

This was before her mother tells her all about her heartbreak and that _Ron_ guy and how all those Weasley-Potters are inconsiderate little _brats_, before her father tells her all about those Weasleys' reckless behavior and ruderude_rude_ personalities; back when she was untainted and simply…innocent.

* * *

"Hullo," he pipes up from behind her; she turns around to blink wide, innocent brown eyes at him. They sort of look like his—sort of. (Not really, darling, her eyes glow that much brighter.)

She answers hesitantly. "Hi." She glances over to where a middle-aged woman is sitting, a woman that looks exactly like her. He predicts she is the girl's mother.

"I'm James Sirius Potter," he puffs up his chest and gives her a look, as if expecting her to bow down before him.

She smiles back a bit warily. "My name's Emma Smith."

He nods, and politely, asks, "May I sit of the swing now?" He looks pointedly at the blue plastic seat she is currently occupying, and then his eyes swivel back up to her face.

She blinks her doe eyes and a guarded look shadows her face under the cloudless sky. He waits.

"Okay," she replies finally, swinging herself off and agreeing. She plops herself down on the grass, fingers weaving through the threads in her ignorance, and watches as the brown-yellow turns to green.

James stops the swing. "Are you doing magic?" His voice is low and suddenly his face is filled with this quiet sort of desperation and overwhelming eagerness—she nods distractedly and the grass weaves itself through her fingers. _In, out, in, out_.

He leaves the swing behind and comes to sit beside her as she disentangled her fingers from the grass—they turn yellow again.

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she turns to James.

"What're you doing? Are you spying on me? Mommy said not to talk to strangers." Her eyes are cautious but are bordering warmth, because she's a nice girl (for now) and she's accepting and _honey_, just wait until her 'Mommy' tells her what happened (and turns her into some sort of prejudiced monster).

He shakes his head vigorously to her question, eyes still trained on her fingers and why is he so interested in this?

"Can you turn the grass green again?" asks James, brown eyes blinking at her, and she complies. Her fingertips touch the dry August blades and almost instantaneously, they turn green and he gasps with wonder.

Hesitantly, James replies. "Well, I'm supposed to know how to, but for some reason, I haven't been able to. It's s'posed to have started when I was seven." He pauses for a moment as if doubting himself, before waving it off. "Doesn't matter, though. Getting my Hogwarts letter next year. I'm sure of it."

He beams confidently and a small smile lights up her face. "Oh, so you know about Hogwarts as well?"

"Of course I do," he grins, "my parents have told me all about it." At this, he puffs up his chest again, proud and dignified and sort of smug, too.

"Who're your parents?"

"Harry and Ginny Potter," he replies, waiting for her reaction.

She frowns. "I'm sorry, who're they?"

He stares at her until he realizes she's being serious. "You really don't know who they are?"

"No, sorry."

He stares at her. "Well then—never mind then. Are your parents, y'know…like us?" The last two words are said in a whisper.

She smiles; finally a question she can answer. "Yes, they are. They went to Hogwarts too, but they don't talk about it much."

"Well, why not?"

Her eyebrows furrow. "I don't know."

(That evening, she goes home and asks her parents about it.)

* * *

"I know all about Hogwarts now, James!" A week has passed and they both seem so eager to see each other—they meet in the same place, the park.

"Really?" he smiles up at her from the bottom of the slide. "That's good, 'specially since we're both going there."

"Yeah, I know. I'm so excited, it sounds amazing!" she smiles softly and fiddles with a bow on her dress. "I am a bit afraid, though, aren't you?"

"Being alone." Blinking at him, she straightens the skirt of her dress.

"Well, there's me!" he says brightly, her face clearing up of what looked like hopelessness.

"Yeah," she agrees, smiling again, "there's always you."

(That evening, she goes home and thinks about him.)

* * *

"You know, you're the same age as my sister. The only difference is, you're not annoying," he says casually as he tugs gently on a lock of her hair.

She turns around, smiling. "'Lo, James!"

"Hi, Emma." He pushes her back and the swing lifts into the air. "My sister was bothering me this morning."

"About?" she asks, swinging gleefully, hair fanning out behind her.

He frowns. "I dunno—something stupid."

"Oh."

"Do you have any siblings?" he asks, thinking about the way her brown hair looks kind of blonde in the sunlight, and how pretty it looks like that, all shimmery and princess-like.

"Nope." The swing is moving slowly now, and she grabs the ropes tightly. "I think my mom is going to have one, though." She glances over at hermother, whose eyes are focused on Witch Weekly.

"Oh, well, they're a pain in the arse."

She gives him a look. "I'm no allowed to say that word."

"What word?" he replies, bewildered, when an expression of sudden comprehension washes over his face. "Oh, arse?"

"Yes, that one."

"Well, it's not a _bad_ word," he disagrees, crinkling his nose.

"I know. What I meant was I don't _wanna_ say it. I hear Mum call Dad that when they're fighting and I don't like it," she says, the swing finally stopping, toes lightly touching down onto the ground.

He assumes a sorrowful expression. "I'm sorry, then."

"About what?"

"That they're fighting."

"Oh. That's okay. It's not your fault anyways."

"I know, but I'm still sorry."

(That evening, she goes home and vows to be as nice as he when she grows older.)

* * *

"Tell me about your family, James, 'she says, elbows propped on the ground and lying sprawled on the grass. He is opposite her in the same position, smiling and plucking at thegrass besde them.

"Well," he begins, "there's Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie and Uncle George, who used to have a twin but he died, and Uncle Ron. Then there's Aunt Fleur, Aunt Audrey, Aunt Angelina and Aunt Hermione. And then there's my parents, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley-Potter. Then there are my siblings, Albus and Lils, and a _lot_ of cousins. Vic, Nikka, Lou, Freddy, Roxy, Hugo, Rosie, Molly and Luce. Then there are other people that aren't _really_ related, but they're like family anyway. There's Uncle Neville, and Aunt Hannah and they have a girl—her name's Abigail but we all call her Abby. There's also Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, and _their_ parents are Aunt Luna and Uncle Rolf. I think that's it."

She gapes at him, eyes wide. "Wow, you're so lucky to have such a big family!"

"I guess," he shrugs modestly, ripping the grass in his fingers to shreds.

"I wish _I_ had a big family. It's just Mummy, Daddy and I," she sighs wistfully.

He reassures her quickly. "No, it's not that amazing. Sometimes they nag you and annoy you and sometimes they're just…there."

"Still, though," she smiles, 'they'll _always_ be there."

"Not really. Yours will always be there, though, and you don't have to constantly fight for attention."

"That's true," she says thoughtfully. "But a big family is fun."

"I suppose," he allows. "You know, I'm the only one in my family who hasn't gotten the magic yet. Everyone else has, even Lou, and he's just turned seven a month ago."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure you're just a late bloomer, is all," she says, watching him brighten.

"You think?"

"Yeah," she lets a small smile creep onto her face. "Yeah, I do."

"Alright, then," he replies, back to his chipper self. "Well, tell me about _your_ family, then."

She tells him about Lavender Smith (nee Brown) and Zacharias Smith.

(That evening, she goes home and finds she appreciates her parents more.)

* * *

One day, he watches her walk into the park, hand-in-hand with the middle-aged woman. He bounds over to her as soon as her mother sits down with her magazine.

"Hullo, Emma!" he says energetically, dragging her over to the slide.

"Hi, James." Why're you so excited toady?" she cocks her head to the side.

He beams. "I told Mum and Dad about you, and they said you're welcome to come over any time!"  
A smile lights up her afce.

"Really? That sounds great!"

"Yeah?" he grins, hand covering hers.

"Yeah."

"Go home and ask your parents, alright?"

"I will."

(That night, she asks permission.)

* * *

He eagerly anticipates their next meeting, wanting badly to know if she can go. He spots her on the swing, a new red-and-white dress fanning out behind her. He taps her lightly on the shoulder.

"So, can you come?" he asks, smiling, but she appears not to have heard him. He frowns and repeats himself. "Em? Can you come over?"

Suddenly, she jumps off the swing and turns around to stand very close to him, the top of her head barely brushing his cheek. "Leave me _alone_, James."

He blinks wide eyes at her.

"What?"

"I _said_, leave me _alone!_ You and your rotten family, all of you! Just leave me alone!" There's something wrong with her; the way the tears are brimming in her eyes and the tone in which her words are being spoken—she sounds like she's _trying_ to hurt him, and Emma Smith doesn't _hurt_ people, she _doesn't._

"What happened?" he asks, bewildered.

"Nothing. Nothing happened," she bites, fighting back tears. (is it because she knows she's about to lose a friend, or is it something more?) "Just go away. I don't want to talk to you."

He leaves then, turning back once again to glance at her in her pretty spotted dress (thinks once, kids their age shouldn't be having this sort of drama _now_) and then he leaves the park.

(That evening, she struggles to fall asleep. He becomes the first boy she's cried over.)

* * *

"Are you—are you alright now?" Fall is approaching and James will soon be gone, and she'll be left all alone.

She doesn't answer.

"You—you look very pretty today," he says quietly. She ignores him, clutching a porcelain doll in her hands, running a plastic brush through the doll's honey locks. (That hair, he thinks, looks just like hers.)

"Are you ever going to speak to me again?" he prompts. "Are you even going to tell me what happened?"

She places the doll carefully on the ground, turns to him and even in her six-year-old naïveté, she's still the scariest thing he's ever seen. "No, I don't _want_ to tell you, cos you should _know _already!"

He looks at his shoes. He has no idea what she's talking about, and he's got a feeling she's not going to tell him.

"Okay," he says finally. "Bye, then."

She doesn't offer him a goodbye.

(That night, she goes home and she feels a tad bit guilty for not telling him—_but he should know, shouldn't he?_ The guilt fades and is replaced by anger.)

* * *

Their next meeting is their last one.

She doesn't show up. (He wonders.)

* * *

**a/n: okay, so james is a squib. sorry if that was confusing :p i wanted to put the actual word 'squib' in the one-shot, but i ended up not being able to fit it in, and i actually like it better that way. so this whole little one-shot is kind of the beginning of emma's prejudice and venom towards the weasleys.  
just thought this would be an interesting way to make my own canon nextgen world, and this is emma's beginning, basically.  
sorry i haven't been updating lately, everyone, i've been busy and even had to go on hiatus from forums. i'll try and update when i can.  
i beg of you, no favourites without reviewing.**


	19. camera: LorcanRose

**a/n: i really don't know what this is, honestly. o_0**

* * *

**pairing: **LorcanRose  
**words: **1,413

**camera  
**and who do you think you are?  
running 'round leaving scars,  
collecting your jar of hearts.  
_/jar of hearts, christina perri/_  
;;

* * *

It starts out nerve-wracking, becomes exhilarating and ends. Just ends.

* * *

The beginning of this wild adventure really starts when ickle Rosie meets him, but we'll skip ahead and say it started when Rose broke up with Lysander.

(And, in a sense, it did.)

The actual conversation on which Rose tells Lysander she wouldn't like to be his girlfriend anymore is not relevant and does not add to the plot of their story—so let's skip ahead, shall we?

The scene fast-forwards to a greenhouse, Rose seemingly alone. The perspective changes so that Lorcan is revealed, crouching behind a Flutterby bush, preparing himself for his encounter with the redhead.

He steps out but Rose doesn't notice, busying herself with a Mandrake. The camera zooms in on Lorcan's nervous expression, with him constantly running a hand through his short hair and swallowing noisily.

The camera pans out to show the entire scene; Rose, oblivious in one corner and Lorcan, nervous as ever, in another.

"Er—I didn't know you liked gardening," pipes up the blonde as Rose spins around in surprise, finally noticing the boy.

Rose stops for a moment, bewildered, before hastily covering up her surprised expression. "I don't; it's for Neville's extra credit."

"Oh'

"Yeah," Rose continues to tend to the plants. "It's nice out. Where's Lily?"

It's true, the dynamic duo seems to be missing a part. Lorcan shifts uncomfortably; the perspective focuses on the boy's disgruntled expression.

"She's off with Teddy, comforting him," Lorcan says dispassionately. He adds, "More like sexing the poor guy up."

(cue laughter.)

Rose chuckles, even though Lorcan could've sworn he said that under his breath. "Yeah, Lily tends to do that." Lorcan flushes.

The camera zooms in again on his blushing face, before he clears his throat.

"So-er- heard you and my brother broke up?" he asks, half hopefully, half sympathetically and his words come out strained.

Rose nods. "Yup."

"And, uh, you broke up with him, right?"

"Right."

"If you don't mind me asking—" he blushes again. "I mean to say—if it's alright with you—"

"Yes, Lorcan?"

"Well, um, why'd you break it off?" he flushes; the camera focuses on Rose's unchanging expression, bent over the Flutterby bush.

"He was so _typical_," she shrugs, indifferent. "I needed someone who could talk to me about something other than school and girls and homework and food."

He blinks. "He talked to you about girls?'

"Yes," she rolls her eyes. "He once mentioned to me that he kissed all of my cousins. Even Victoire. And two or three of the kisses were when we were actually _in_ a relationship already."

Lorcan doesn't know what to say. This is his _brother_, his own flesh and blood here. The camera switches to the boy, his shocked face multiplied five times, ten. "Well, he's a jerk."

"No, not really," Rose disagrees, grinning now. "That's just how he is. Blunt."

The two subside into silence, her busying herself with the plants again. The camera pans out and Lorcan is fidgeting, watching Rose as she waters the remaining plants. The two bask in the sunlight filtering through the greenhouse windows for a moment, before—

"Do you want to go out with me?" he blurts out, cheeks burning. She turns around again, surprised. The moment their eyes meet marks the end of a chapter in their story as the camera zooms in again on Rose's face, watching…as she says one word.

_Yes._

The middle of their story is a variety of parts, of moments, tiny and huge. Scenes that are so seemingly insignificant but actually mark important parts of their story.

So let's start with the first scene, yeah?

* * *

_Scene I:_

"Mm," she groans, pressing her lips to his again, "did you have a chocolate éclair? I can taste it."

"Mhm." His hands wander to her hips and she wonders when he got so confident. "You're pretty."

(cue 'awww's.)

She laughs, surprised. "I know. What happened to shy Lorcan, eh?"

"Who?" he smiles teasingly, nibbling at her neck, and she pushes him off playfully.

"It's time to get to _class_, Lorc."

He blushes, and shy Lorcan is back.

The camera is focused on the pair, walking through the corridor, hand-in-hand.

It zooms in to show intertwined hands—and in this light, they almost look like they fit perfectly together.

* * *

_Scene II:_

"Hey," she whispers, jostling him awake. Blinking, he rubs his eyes and stretches his long limbs, and the burning flame in the fireplace has extinguished. Rose smiles at him, and he smiles back.

* * *

_Scene III:_

"It's raining," she says pointedly, glancing out the streaked window with a sense of longing. The camera zooms in on her face, eyebrows creased and hands twitching slightly.

"I know," Lorcan replies, smiling at her, before realizing what Rose really wants to do. He laughs, a short, barking laugh, and pulls Rose to her feet. "If you wanted to dance in the rain, you could've just told me."

She grins at him, yells, "Race ya!" runs away, and Lorcan chases after her.

The camera watches as they fade away, into the rain.

* * *

_Scene IV:_

"You sure spend a lot of time with Lucy," she accuses, stubborn as she crosses her arms and glares at him.

He blinks at her, owlish eyes looking bewildered and confused; a flicker of hurt crosses his face before he attempts to placate her.

"She's my best friend, that's it."

This seems to anger her even more. "Yes, that's what _everyone_ says! Best friends, my _arse_."

He wonders briefly if this has anything to do with the fact that Scorpius and Lily have started dating, because she was fine a day ago…

The camera focuses on both figures intently, as if trying to capture the moment where this relationship begins crumbling.

"Fine," he finds himself saying quietly, "believe what you want."

The camera continues filming as she walks away.

* * *

_Scene V:_

"So—Scorpius asked me to come and stay with him and Al over Easter break!" she announces to him cheerfully, twirling a crimson curl absentmindedly. He nods and smiles, and for some reason, it feels strained.

It looks strained too, on the blinking lights of the camera.

"Good for you," he replies softly, but she has already danced away to gloat to Lily.

* * *

_Scene VI:_

This is the end, sort of. Well, the beginning of the end.

"They've broken up!" Rose singsongs, attempting to sound nonchalant, failing miserably.

"Oh."

She smiles at him, buries her head in his chest, and his arms circle almost automatically around her.

He wonders if she likes Scorpius.

The camera zooms in on his face, and he senses disaster.

* * *

_Scene VII:_

She presses against him, giggling and kissing his neck softly, and it feels like the beginning again.

Until he ruins it.

"Scorpius?" he blurts out, and she looks up at him, confused.

Her eyebrows furrow. "Er, Rose here, remember?"

"No—" he corrects himself, "I meant to say—that is—are you…in love with Scorpius?"

She pushes away from him immediately, hands splaying on his chest and looking offended. "No!"

His face crumbles; the cameras zoom, and she walks away…again.

* * *

_Scene VIII:_

"Is Lysander single right now?" she demands, hands on her hips and he wonders when she'd become this bi-polar, constantly changing Rose.

"Yes," he replies. He sot of notices how quiet his voice is, how soft, how…_weak_ it is.

"Oh," she replies thoughtfully, leaning into him to peck him on the lips. The camera just films. He doesn't say a word as she walks away.

* * *

_Scene VIIII: _

This is the end, really. The fact that he-and-her have lasted for four months is an accomplishment.

He catches her snogging him in the hallway.

They don't even bother to hide it; her hands are on his chest (splayed) and his hands are roaming her arse rather shamelessly, and she reaches up to tug on his tie, and Lorcan thinks he might be sick.

Because to catch his brother—her ex—kissing the living daylights out of her is so heartbreaking and leaves a gaping hole somewhere in his chest.

Because deep down he knew she needed a strong man. Someone who could sweep her off her feet and be her knight in shining armour, and he's just plain old shy Lorcan.

It was to be expected, right?

The camera lingers on his contorted face, and the image of Rose and Lysander, and this time- _he_ walks away.

* * *

_Scene X:_

And this is their end.


	20. teardrop necklace: ScorpiusLucy

**a/n: yes, i know i haven't written this in awhile.**

* * *

**pairing:** ScorpiusLucy  
**words: **1,512

**teardrop necklace**  
big dreams but nothing material_  
/hey lady, thriving ivory/_  
;;

* * *

She is kind of the girl that sits on the rooftops of white houses to watch the glittering stars, and the girl that paints rooms of her home all sorts of colors for the hell of it, and the girl that just settles down in an armchair and reads a book. (Narnia, Narnia, always Narnia.)

She's the quiet dreamer that everyone seems to not pay much attention to, and he's just her cousin's boyfriend.

When he first sees her, the first thing he thinks of is a tulip—young and innocent and ohsopretty—before his eyes swivel back to RoseRoseRose and she wanders off to read, glasses perched on her button nose.

The next time he sees her, he thinks of seashells. Fragile, drifting, and smelling like the ocean. He quickly focuses on something else – (Rose's hair, Rose's eyes, anything.) – she is forgotten.

(Because girls like her fade in their own time – she's already invisible to him.)

* * *

**October 16th**

"Hullo," she pipes up from behind him. He's bent down in the middle of a jewelry store, looking at a pretty diamond ring on display. He turns around quickly, cricking his neck. There is surprise on his face when he recognizes her.

"Hi."

Twisting around him and staring in awe at the sparkling diamond, she breathes, "Looking at rings, huh?"

He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. His cheeks flush the slightest pink, and he looks sheepishly at her. "Er, yeah. Don't tell Rose, yeah? I'd like for it to be a surprise."

"Rose hates surprises," she states matter-of-factly, him looking bemusedly at her. "Besides, I wouldn't tell her."

"Oh," he replies awkwardly. "Good, then."

She nods, absently picking up a necklace and fingering the pearls adorning it. "Hm. A bit gaudy, don't you think?"

He realizes she's addressing him and clears his throat quickly. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"I like this one better." She picks up a white gold, thin necklace chain, only a tiny jewel on the bottom shaped like a tear.

"Why on Earth do you like that one?" he asks, frowning. "It's a /tear/."

She smiles serenely. "It /could/ be a tear. It might just as likely be a rain drop. I happen to adore rain, y'know." She sets the necklace carefully on the counter and walks away, wiggling her fingers at him before her blonde head disappears around a clothing rack.

He picks up the necklace and checks the price.

* * *

**December 24th - Christmas Eve**

Christmas Eve is hectic; there are cousins with their angelic little babies, and crooning aunts, and grinning uncles, and she just sits near the tree, book in hand.

She absentmindedly levitates a couple of ornaments onto the tree with her eyes blurring across the pages. Scorpius taps her on the shoulder lightly as she glances up, a smile forming on her face.

"Hi there," she says breezily, standing up with her glittering eyes and serenity, "did you end up getting the ring?"

"Er – well, about that –"

He is cut off by a voice calling to him, melodious yet loud at the same time- he sends her an apologetic look and anxiously weaves his way through the crowd to find his girlfriend.

She waves at him, sitting back down again, book in hand, as her cousins are off getting wasted and laid.

Her sister comes by to ask her if she's alright once in awhile, a different guy hanging off her arm every time. She replies with a "fine" and a dreamy, reassuring beam and soon, her sister stops asking. A couple of cousins urge her to down a few shots with them, but every time she shakes her head politely, raising the book to show them what she's doing. They stop bothering her as well and pretty soon, it's just her and Narnia by the colourful Christmas tree, surrounded by presents while the rest of her family are at the kitchen table and living room, getting piss drunk.

She prefers this quiet scene more. Scorpius walks up to her, hands in his pockets, a Weasley sweater thrown over his head and hair looking ruffled. "Hi."

She glances up. "Hey. So, did you end up getting the ring?"

"No, but..." he pulls something out of his pocket, looking around to make sure no one's around. "It's the necklace you showed me."

And indeed, it was. The lights of the Christmas tree glint off the crystalline rain drop, reflecting in Lucy's wide eyes.

"Yes," she manages to breathe, "it's beautiful."

Scorpius smiles at her. "You think Rose'll like it?"

Though she's expecting it, she feels a crushing sense of disappointment somewhere within her. She smiles back, a little wearily.

"Dunno," she says honestly, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "I mean, I'm sure she'd like a proposal more..." she sees his expression and tacks on, "...but I'm sure she'll be happy with it either way. I mean, she's already got you, what more could she need?"

She flushes a light pink and looks back down at her book, aware of his eyes on her.

"Yeah..." he says thoughtfully, watching this girl with her endless books and crooked glasses.

Molly interrupts, giggling tipsily, grabbing Lucy's hands, and then she is swept away with a faint "sorry!"

He looks down at the necklace clenched in his fingers, and almost smiles.

Midnight approaches fast; it's suddenly eleven fifty-eight and everyone's waiting to open gifts- the lot of them are as much like kids like they were years ago- and Scorpius waits to present the necklace to Rose.

He watches as everyone tears open their gifts with 'oh!'s and cheers and gasps of delight.

He takes the necklace carefully out of his pocket, Lucy sending him a reassuring smile as she fingers the worn book in her hands. He gains confidence and locates Rose, kneeling in front of her with a sheepish smile on his face.

He opens his cupped hands and there is the necklace, sparkling under the lights, and Rose's barely-contained excitement falls flat- and she begins _yelling_ at him.

"What the _hell_ is this, Scorpius?"

"A necklace," he answers, eyebrows knitted together as he stares at her, stealing a glance at Lucy. "I thought you would like it."

"A tear, Scor, _really_. What is _wrong_ with you?" she cries indignantly. "I thought you were proposing, you stupit git!"

"I..._what_?" Scorpius says confusedly. "I thought you…well, I…"

Rose heaves a sigh. "I'm done waiting for you, Scorpius."

Lucy watches the spectacle, wide-eyed, clutching her book in her hands.

And then, it is over – Rose does not wait for Scorpius' response, and steps outside the house to Apparate away. The Weasleys stare, and Scorpius winces.

Lucy pulls Scorpius away before the boys converge upon him, threats on their lips and hands fingering their wands.

She pulls him to the backyard, where it is snowing and the white flakes twinkle under the moonlit sky, and behind a large tree where no one can see them.

It's bitter cold and Lucy stands there, shivering in a dress and light sweater, while Scorpius hangs about in a rented tuxedo and scarf, getting his dragon hide shoes wet in the slush. Her cheeks are flushed, but for entirely different reasons than the cold.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't have interfered," she says sincerely, chewing on her lip and book still in hand. Scorpius pats her on the arm and smiles sadly.

"It wasn't your fault," says Scorpius. "Besides, she'll come around."

"Will she? Rose is stubborn," Lucy looks worriedly at the boy, whose hair looks like it's shining, and he takes off his old Slytherin scarf and wraps it around her neck, almost grinning. "Thanks."

"No problem, you looked a bit cold there."

She gets that faraway look in her eyes and she stares up at the stars. "It was never cold in Narnia."

"Right," he says, defeated, having lost the moment. "Narnia."

"It was the best place, really," she smiles peacefully at the sky again, dreaming. A moment of tranquility passes and Lucy turns back to him, all signs of quietude gone. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

He waves it off. "Yeah – I'll be fine. I've got to go, though."

"Mm," she looks down, "well, goodbye then."

"Er," he starts awkwardly, pulling a box out of his pocket – the same necklace box he was going to give to Rose – "I want you to have this."

He grabs her hand and opens her palm, placing the box inside it, and then he closes her fingers around the box. She stares down at it, and when his hand leaves hers, she glances up.

When she looks up to meet his eyes he is already gone, and she removes the scarf from her neck and wraps it around the necklace box, and the book falls to the ground.

* * *

(He is right. Two weeks later they are back together, and she goes back to dreams of seashells on Narnian beaches and dark-haired boys with sweet smiles.)

(When Scorpius proposes to Rose a year later, Lucy unfolds the scarf, and clasps the necklace carefully around her neck.)

* * *

**a/n: rushed, sorry.**

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	21. juggle: LorcanMolly

**pairing: **LorcanMolly  
**words: **429

**juggle**  
i don't know  
if you feel the way i do  
_/please don't go, mike posner/_  
;;

* * *

You hate him.

It never seemed like you could sway him, the boy with the glassy eyes and the too-big dreams and the boyish hair. He's the keeper to your sister's heart and she's the keeper to his, and he doesn't know he's juggling not one, but two hearts in his hands—he's going to drop one, eventually, and it's not going to be Lucy's.

You sprinkle a fine layer of cinnamon dust on your finished cupcake, smiling in satisfaction because baking's the one thing that you can do better than Lucy – your sister. Your twin.

You scratch your nose, flour and other ingredients making its way onto your freckled nose, powdering it white and brown and red and you don't mind because you're happy.

"Molly! How are you?" he interrupts from the doorway, smiling at you. You take another look at the rest of the cupcakes baking in the oven, and turn back to him, wavering grin, and all.

"I'm good, Lor," you reply, sounding tired but cheerful, waiting for your heart to stop breaking, "where's Luce?"

"Off with Ly at the stream," he rolls his eyes, and your chest tightens for a bit because he doesn't seem to mind at all. Does he? _Does he_?

"Oh?" you say lightly, offhandedly, "are they…together now?" You wait to see his reaction.

He only smirks and your innards melt, and maybe he likes you after all. "No, but why d'you want to know, Molls? Taken a fancy to Ly?"

No, no, no. He's got it all wrong. You sigh. "No, Lorcan."

"It's alright; I won't tell him," he winks, and you think you might want to shake him a bit, tell him exactly who you really do fancy – instead you turn back to your baking, lines etching your face. And suddenly, the baking doesn't seem like it's all that fun anymore, all that great, and now it only looks like a distraction from Lorcan and his ever-too-oblivious mannerisms.

You add sprinkles to the next cupcake. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. For this, for this heartbreak. For this shit you feel every day, every morning you see him with the dimpled cheeks and glass-blue eyes and his fuck-me hair, and time to stop thinking, Molly.

"Those look good," he says. You crush that bubble of hope rising in you as quickly as you can. Oh God, you could never hate him. "Can I…have one?"

You pause, you think you might let him juggle those two hearts (even though it's inevitable), and then –

"Of course."

(You love him.)

* * *

**a/n: i'm sorry for the shittiness. mollylor, lolno.**

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